May the Maker Watch Over You
by Danie-Dono
Summary: He prayed for her safe journey every night. She would return and the loneliness that fastened to him in the coldest nights would vanish. Her smile would warm his darkest th oughts. Her touch would heal the desperate need for his lyrium addictions. Now though, peering at the parchment,his heart dropped and the hope extinguished.
1. Chapter 1

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

A/N: This is something that came to me last night and I just couldn't stop. I'm rather surprised I got this much written in less than twenty-four hours. I'm the only one to proof-read this so if there are any grammatical mistakes, I'm sorry.

I loved the romance in Dragon Age: Inquisition with Cullen, but I have also enjoyed reading many of the fanfiction writers that have written stories with a Cullen/Circle mage romance. I was so excited to see many familiar faces from Origins but sad that the only thing about the Warden was a letter. So I kept thinking, what if Cullen was in love with Surana? What if they encountered each other in Kirkwall during the events of Dragon Age II? What if Surana becomes caught up in the events in Dragon Age: Inquisition? So this is my AU take on how this would occur.

If you have any constructive criticism, or comments, please leave me a review. I love to hear from my readers! Enjoy!

I do not own anything Dragon Age. They belong to Bioware.

* * *

><p>"O Maker, hear my cry:<p>

Guide me through the blackest nights

Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked

Make me to rest in the warmest places."

Cullen paced in the small office space, clutching tightly to the worn iron Andraste coin he always carried with him. The sun had set over the mountains, the room now darkening and illuminate by candles around the room. He repeated the Chant of Light again for the fifth time, pleading for clarity and peace. He had been praying since he had read the letter now discarded on the mahogany desk, wax dripping onto the parchment where the candle resting next to it.

"O Creator, see me kneel:

For I walk only where You would bid me

Stand only in places You have blessed

Sing only the words You place in my throat."

_She has to be okay. She's always okay. She always returns._

"My Maker, know my heart

Take from me a life of sorrow

Lift me from a world of pain

Judge me worthy of Your endless pride."

The commander remembers the first time she left him, her face in complete shock. It hadn't been her choice, but had stumbled into something sinister and dark. She had been rescued from the dark fate by a Grey Warden, conscripted moments before being tried for helping a Blood Mage. She had turned her head as she left, glancing in his direction. He could see the confusion, relief, and regret in her amber eyes. It felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart, eerily similar to earlier that day when he was prepared to do the same to her as she entered the fade.

"My Creator, judge me whole:

Find me well within Your grace

Touch me with fire that I be cleansed

Tell me I have sung to Your approval."

Then she had appeared at his darkest hour. Cullen had heard the tragic news about Ostagar. If there was a remote chance she had lived, it had been replaced with the rumors. _No survivors. King Cailan dead. The Wardens failed. _There was no time to hear any other news, Kinloch Tower falling under attack by the Blood Mages. Cullen had fought until he was captured and lead to the top of the tower with his brothers. There he watched as one by one, they all fell to the demons. When she had appeared in front of him with three other companions, he had thought she was of the fade, another temptress to seduce him from his vows. He had treated her poorly, remembering those bright eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He had nearly broken her, just as he had been. She had left; shoulders slumped, never looking back.

"O Maker, hear my cry:

Seat me by Your side in death

Make me one within Your glory

And let the world once more see Your favor."

He didn't believe he would see her again. He heard of her travels though. She had saved Redcliff from the undead, saved the young arl's son from the demons, recovered the Ashes of Andraste, and defeating the Archdemon on top of Fort Drakon. The stories seemed intangible. Cullen remembered hearing again of Ashiva by the new Templar recruits, mumbling curses. _A mage as Arlessa of Amaranthine. Vigil's Keep home to the Wardens. What is the world coming to? _He soon transferred to Kirkwall and began a new life. It wasn't until the Qunari rebelled that she stumbled back into his life. He was ordering the troops when he saw the tail of silver and blue armor. She wielded a sword that glowed like starlight, lightning striking her opponent with force to stun them. Raven hair clung to her forehead, her face scrunched like it always had when she whispered spells into the air. Her opponent fell unconscious before her eyes fell on him, an uncertain smile on her scarlet colored lips. That night, he didn't let her leave without a word.

"For You are the fire at the heart of the world

And comfort is only Yours to give."

He gripped the coin tighter. Work had kept his mind from wandering into these memories, of thinking of her. The Inquisition had given him purpose away from the Templars. He commanded troops and advised the Herald. He enjoyed it mostly, assisting young men to wield the blade. Cullen would often write to Ashiva, thinking soon she would reply once she received them. He knew she was busy and once she found what she was looking for, she would return. He prayed for her safe journey every night. She would return and the loneliness that fastened to him in the coldest nights would vanish. Her smile would warm his darkest thoughts. Her touch would heal the desperate need for his lyrium addictions. Now though, peering at the parchment, his heart dropped and the hope extinguished.

_Cullen,_

_The weather has changed. The wind blows from the West. I will be leaving the Western Approach soon. I will send word soon._

_A. S._

How long ago had she sent this? Days? Weeks? Months? The unknowing unnerved him, especially since Warden Alistair had appeared in the keep. The warden had informed them of the deception in the organization. He had gone into hiding, questioning the organization's decisions. Cullen had spoken to Alistair briefly when he had arrived, hoping the warrior would keep their little secret, with the promise to speak later.

Cullen stepped out of his office, breathing in the chilled crisp air. Being raised in Ferelden, he was familiar with the chill. He walked the battlements, the paper in his fist. He stepped into the dark door, breathing in the smell of a wood-burning fire, ale and smoked hog. Laughter and music were in the air. Above the tavern, where he could see glimpses of the Iron Bull, Varric, Dorian, Sera, and Trevelyan playing Wicked Grace. He found the small table on the second floor, Alistair sitting with a mug of Antivan brandy, leg propped on a wooden chair. He sat across from the warden, placing the letter in front of the man.

"I received this a week before you arrived. I didn't think much of it until you showed up with your news," Cullen explained.

Alistair, leaned in his chair, squinting his eyes to read the small script. His eyebrows lowered in confusion. "The Western Approach. Ash didn't mention this."

He grimaced at the nickname. Since the Fifth Blight, Alistair and Ashiva Surana had been close. He had heard the ballads of their victories as well as the whispered stories of their blossomed romance. After the Archdemon had died, both had remained friends, relying on each other. Little else was mentioned about their relationship during their travels to defeat the Blight.

"She's being followed," Cullen mumbled, scratching the wood grained table with a nail. This news didn't settle him like he had prayed. "Do you know when she might have sent this? Is she in danger?"

"It could mean anything. Nathaniel went with her. I think if something were to happen, he would have contacted me," answered the brooding warrior.

Silence fell between the duo. Cullen looked below, watching the bard pluck her lute with enthusiasm while Alistair drank his brandy. The tension between them had always been evident to the ex-templar. Since their first encounter in Kinloch Tower, Alistair had been protective of the mage. Cullen was well aware of their conversations concerning her relationship with him. Ashiva would always smile, her cat-like eyes glowing with amusement. "_I can't help it that I like a little danger in my life," _she would say nudging him on the shoulder as she walked by. He didn't blame the man though for his mistrust. Cullen deserved the allegations against him.

He rubbed at his neck, feeling the pressure headache forming at the back of his head. Thoughts of the gore and death in Kinloch Tower flashed through his mind. He could almost smell the death surrounding him in the small tavern in the high mountains. Even after a decade, his hands sweat, and his muscles tensed.

_Now is not the time_, he reprimanded himself. He exhaled, looking back at the man sitting near him. "Look Warden, I haven't heard from Ashiva for months, and then I get this message. I haven't been able to sleep peacefully since receiving this and I will not find peace until I know she is safe."

"She told me why you joined the Inquisition," Alistair commented. "The Seekers were searching for her. They wanted answers from her, her leadership- something she wanted nothing to do with it. Ash had done more than enough with political bullshit. We both had," he laughed harshly, pouring more brandy into his mug. "She came to you. Wanted your protection. No matter how much I tried to convinced her not to go to Kirkwall, she did anyway. You got her out of their sight, and convinced them to let you join them. They stopped searching after you joined the seeker."

"I found her phylactery, and destroyed it," Cullen whispered. He had promised to protect her, to always keep her safe. "I wouldn't let them use her like the Fereldan nobility used her."

Alistair's eyes glazed over, his eyes distant. A bitter smile curved on his lips. "She always loved you. Even when we...she always loved you."

_And I her. _"Then you must know why I need to find her."

Sighing, Alistair scratch the stubble on his chin in thought. "Hawke and I will leave tomorrow to scout ahead. I'll see what I can find out. I'll also let Leliana send word to Vigil's Keeps. Perhaps Oghren or Sigrun have heard something through their informants."

Alistair stood up, stretching with a yawn. The King Maric's bastard son grinned, finally looking like the young warden he had met long ago. "If you'll excuse me, I really want to get a chance to have a restful nights sleep dreaming of darkspawn and ancient darkspawn magisters bringing back the Blight."

Cullen watched the warden leave, walking up the stairs to the battlements. He remembered many nights when Ashiva woke in the night, screaming and gasping for breath. Sometimes she would talk, confessing the gruesome nightmares of death and carnage. Many times she remained silent, leaving the room for fresh air and to gaze to the starry sky.

"Ash, darling, where are you," he silently whispered, lifting himself from the wooden chair.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to imagine her smile, her laughter for a moment longer, imagining the smell of cinnamon and pine that seem to linger on her. Exhaling, he opened his eyes, his mind clearing from the worry and desperation to find her. There would be a time to dwell on it later.

* * *

><p>"<em>Cullen?"<em>

_She lowered her sword, sheathing it in the holster attached to her hip. Ashiva walked cautiously towards him waved her hand, a gesture for the wardens at her side to step away. Her black hair was braided, blowing on the sea breeze slightly below her shoulders. She cradled her injured left hand, amber eyes watching him with interest. Covered in sweat and a blood smear on her cheek, she was still radiant. _

"_Ashiva? What...what are you doing here?" He grimaced. Out of all the things he could say or do, that was the first thing he could think of?_

_She smiled mischievously, looking around her. "Oh you know, investigating Grey Warden secrets. It seems no matter where I go, trouble tends to find me. Of course the night we arrive, the Qunari decided to eradicate the city."_

_Cullen failed to hide the smirk forming on his lips. "No rest for the wicked. Even after all these years, you still find yourself in the middle of chaos."_

"_So it seems," her face darkened. She looked at the wardens around her, before turning back to him. "We should be going."_

_Ashiva walked briskly away, calling out orders. Cullen watched, the dark cloak around her shoulders moving with each step. He remembered the moment she had walked away from him in the circle; how he had regret everything he had said and did. He wouldn't let her leave until he had his say. Talking three large steps, he caught her wrist, disrupting her shouts._

"_Ashiva," he started, a loss for words. "I-I...thank you."_

_He didn't realize how cold her eyes had been until that moment. She looked down, her right hand absently brushing the loose tendrils from her face. "Its my duty to help those in need."_

_He let her go. "May the Maker watch over you, Ashiva."_

"_And you, Cullen."_

_It wasn't enough, but he finally was able to thank her. Thank her for protecting the city of Kirkwall, and for saving his life years ago in the circle. He was able to thank her for saving the templars she could, and protecting the mages that were innocent, even if he had believed they all were evil. Including her. _

* * *

><p>"Inquisitor, did you need something?"<p>

Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan leaned against the wall, her blue eyes staring intently at the window behind him. Dark auburn hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and smile was light and distant. Since their first encounter in Haven, Evelyn had become a friend to him. Someone Cullen could trust to lead he and his troops into battle. Although she was a fine warrior and an attractive woman, the former templar couldn't help but wish he was seeing amber eyes, a teasing smile and ebony hair.

"I saw you at the tavern last night, speaking to Warden Alistair," Evelyn started, moving closer to his large ornate desk. "I didn't know you two knew each other."

Cullen shrugged nonchalantly, picking up a stack of reports. "He was with the Hero when Kinloch Tower was under attack by blood mages. We've encountered one another in Kirkwall from time to time as well."

The Inquisitor pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting together in thought. She leaned against the desk, her hand resting on the wooden surface to maintain her balance. "It didn't seem to be a friendly gathering to catch up on life's events. If something is concerning you, you can talk to me," she declared, chewing on her bottom lip. "At least I thought, you knew that."

Seeing her like this, concern and nervous, always reminded Cullen just how human Trevelyan was. It was easy to place her above everyone with titles like noblewoman, The Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, and Savior of Haven. He straighten the papers, fighting to keep his gaze elsewhere.

"I-I can't tell you everything right now Lady Trevelyan," he stuttered, before he cleared his throat. "I mean, I want to, but I feel uncomfortable relating so little information to you concerning this matter. Once I have gathered enough intelligence, I will come to you."

Her smile brightened, her eyes reflected her understanding, and she pushed herself from the desk. "Alright, fair enough. Anything else to report, Commander?"

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm glad you decided to join me before you left," Cullen replied, filling Ashiva's glass before sitting himself.<em>

_The elven mage smiled nervously, swishing the Orlesian wine. Her blue and silver armor was clean, polished after weeks of battle in the deep roads. Her face was solemn, and dark. Being this close to her, he saw new wrinkles on her forehead and cheeks. Were they laugh marks or had the years been so dreadful, she no longer smiled and laughed like she had done as an apprentice mage?_

"_Its nice to be able to sit and enjoy some pleasantries in life, even if it is only for a short time," carefully she answered, as if she were speaking to one of the nobles in Amaranthine. Playing the Game._

_Cullen frowned. Sure, he had dealt with a few of the nobles around Kirkwall, particularly Hawke, but he never had to play the Game, as he had heard many Bards call it. Pleasantries and ambiguous phrases were not something he was well versed in. He had not expected her to develop the sharp tongue. _

_The Hanged Man was quieter than usual. He recognized some familiar faces, the dwarf Hawke befriended, the pirate who shamelessly flirted with him, and the Dalish elf that he had suspicions about. Taking a large drink, he felt the ale burn as it went down, praying for discernment and at least something to talk about. _

_Fortunately for him, Ashiva ended the silence. "I went back to the Circle a year after the Blight. I was...searching for something. Gregoir informed me you were no longer there but had transferred to Kirkwall."_

_The Templar sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "There were too many ghost there. Too many memories I wished to forget."_

"_I see. I'm sorry, I wish I could have came sooner. Maybe if I had…"_

"_If you had, you could have been killed with the other mages," Cullen interrupted harshly, looking at her directly. He hated seeing her look so broken. "Ashiva, I hate to rehash the past, but what happened can't be changed. And...what I said to you in there, I can't undo. I hated mages then, I still have some distrust for many. But I never was apprehensive towards you. You saved me from the demons that haunted me and saved my life and the life of many others. I could never thank you enough for that...and I hope one day you could forgive me in my weakest moment. What I said to you then…"_

_A warm hand moved to cover his armored glove, quieting him. "Cullen, what happened to you was appalling. I couldn't have expected you to think clearly after the weeks of torture you endured, much less take judgment on your vile words. I was upset, yes, for many months, but I learned to see from another perspective, and I slowly forgave you."_

_Her smile was gentle, her eyes glittered like the stars in the sky. He could feel his stomach fluttered, old feelings seeming to return as she had done. Feeling bold, he twisted his wrist, claiming her hand in his. "I...that's good to hear."_

_They stared at each other for some time. He couldn't' help but wonder about the events in their lives. What if he had not joined with the Templar Order? Would he have met her? Would he be able to act on his feelings? What if she were not a mage? Would she be with the Grey Wardens now? Or would she have fallen to the Blight? He looked at their hands, his lightly holding her smaller hand. Her skin was darker now, sun kissed from the many days she traveled in the outdoors. Cullen saw the calluses on her lithe fingers from wielding the sword and probably many other weapons, fighting bandits and darkspawn. He saw a faint scar across the back of her hand, probably from a dagger from the many battles she had witnessed. _

"_I should be going," he said, the words sour in his mouth. He had to report back to the Gallows and she to Amaranthine. They had lives separate from each other, duties that had to be fulfilled. _

_Ashiva nodded her agreement, reclaiming her hand again. She stood, stifling a yawn. "Yes. Alistair will be worried if I stay out any longer. He'll feel he is missing out on something."_

"_Ashiva…"_

"_Cullen, call me Ash."  
><em>

"_Ash," the name slipped past his lips, a crooked smile on his lips. He couldn't just let her go, especially now that she had returned. "May I write to you in Amaranthine?"_

_The elven woman look befuddled, before she shook her head. "What about the templars? I'm a mage."_

"_And also a warden who saved Ferelden from the Fifth Blight," Cullen added, grinning. "All they will know is a relative of mine joined the Ferelden Grey Wardens."_

_Ashiva chewed on her lip nervously, before she nodded. "Alright, as long as I can write to you as well. May the Maker watch over you, Cullen."_

"_And you, Ash."_


	2. Chapter 2

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

**Chapter 2**

A/N: I had originally wrote the first chapter, because it was something that wouldn't stop pestering me until it was said. I honestly didn't think more would come out of it. Yet, here is another chapter (and I still have more swimming in my brain). I also want to take the time to thank those who have read, commented, favorited and followed this story. It warms my heart that someone enjoyed this. Here is my thanks: **Kyla Baines**, **ErsbethShadowSong**, and **wildfire1977**. Please forgive the mistakes, I proofread this myself and could have missed something. I am looking for a beta for this story, so if anyone is interested, let me know. :)

Also, wanted to let you know that I have drawn a picture of Ashiva Surana! You can find a link to my deviantart page to see it on my profile!

* * *

><p>The prisoner inhaled painfully, fighting to fill her lungs with air. She laid on the stone floor, lifeless, unable to remember how long she had been here, or where <em>here<em> was. The elven woman knew only a few things. One, the chill she suffered days ago had disappeared. Although relieved, she knew that it was a bad omen of her health. Another thing she knew was her mind was slowly being manipulated. Soon, she would not be in control of her own thoughts and emotions. She was uncertain of the authenticity of the memoirs she clung to. Images of people she believed were allies and friends were becoming flawed and distorted but the ceaseless whispers.

She exhaled, her voice exhausted from her screams as they tortured her and broke her resolve. The elf had crumbled, seeing only nightmares. In her dreams she ran from an unknown enemy. In her waking hours, she observed the red crystal surrounding the three walls of her prison. The abnormal rock had grown, she was aware of that, but was puzzled as to how.

How had she gotten into this prison? Her mind blurred through the details. She remembered a woman standing proud in blue and silver armor, a magical sword held in her right hand. The woman covered her head and face with the blue scarf, looking behind her at dark haired archer, wearing similar armor. She conversed with the man, waving her hands around before moving forward in the sand. Who was this woman?

The images blurred again the elven woman kneeled, defeated as the chains were clasped around her wrists. Before her were two mages, another female blue armor wielder her staff gripped tightly in both hands, the golden griffon blazing in the sunlight, the second male unkempt, like he had been in the desert for weeks. The elf pleaded with the woman, trying to find the right words to have the mage see reasoning.

"_Clarel, this is madness. This will not help our cause but destroy everything we have built for our order. Raising the last Old Gods will only bring chaos. Thedas cannot withstand another blight! It nearly destroyed Ferelden."_

"_Is it no more mad than what you did? How did you survive after stabbing the monster through the skull? What did you and the bastard king do to deserve to live when so many have fallen before you," the mage, Clarel countered, her eyes cold. _

_The arcane warrior looked down, her fingers brushing against the sandy granite path. These questions unsettled her. They were secrets she would keep to protect those she cared for._

_The man stepped up, looking at the mage. "She is no use to us like this," he advised, rubbing at his neglected goatee. "There is an organization that can hold her, help her see reasoning. I'll arrange for them to come and take her. they would help us."_

Her mind grew hazy. She closed her eyes, focusing on something, anything to keep from subcomming to the darkness. The elven woman could hear _it_, pounding in her head. The _singing_ was driving her mad, leaving little room for anything else. "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just," she whispered, her voice hoarse and worn. Her mind grew blank. What were these words? Where had she heard this before? "Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written."

* * *

><p>"<em>A Grey Warden Prison in the Vinmark Mountains? Its hard to believe, Bethany," Ashiva commented, tracing the route on the map.<em>

"_Believe me, I saw it Commander. I was there with my brother. What was there was..atrocious," Bethany confirmed, shuffling on her feet restlessly. "I thought this was something that should be brought to your attention."_

_The young Mage had been recruited to the Ferelden Wardens nearly three years ago, after the Qunari had attacked Kirkwall. Ashiva admired Bethany, her kind and gentle spirit was something that soothed her and had settled the strong personalities of her assemblage. Since that time, the human mage had become accustomed to the misfited crew at Vigil, and even grown close to a particular member, Nathaniel Howe. _

_Ashiva nodded her head, carefully going through the documents again that elder Hawke had gathered and sent with his sibling. "It wouldn't be something too terrible to investigate. I also received word from the First Warden that we are needed to investigate the deep roads located near Kirkwall. I believe you have been there with your brother before."_

_The elf noticed how Bethany tensed. She knew of the woman's nightmares that woke her in the night. She had nearly died in there. Luckily, the girl had found Grey Warden Shroud who had taken her in. How she came to find the Wardens nearby, Ashiva did not know. _

"_Yes, Commander," Bethany replied, nodding her head in respect as she stepped out of the office._

_Ashiva sighed, shaking her head. "What do you think, Alistair?"_

"_We can't really say no to the First," Alistair began nonchalantly. "He's already frustrated with us for the whole Fifth Blight and not dying tradition. And a Prison that held a magistar is worth investigating. I suggest we check it out. Maybe we could take in some of the sights of Kirkwall while we're at it."_

"_You're not going," The mage ordered, keeping her eyes on the work in front of her. She avoided looking at her long-time friend. "I need someone to stay here and keep Vigil afloat."_

"_Then who's going with you," Alistair challenged. "Ashiva, you're walking into some kind of trap. Just from what Bethany said about the prison, anything can happen in there. And the thaig-"_

"_Alistair, I already made my decision," Ashiva shouted, amber eyes meeting blue. "Nathaniel and Orghren will be the senior Wardens accompanying me as well as a dozen more Wardens to put your mind at ease."_

Alistair frowned. "That really doesn't put my mind at ease."

_Ashiva stepped away from her desk to rest her hand on the Warden's breastplate. "Someone needs to stay here and keep Amaranthine protected. I trust you to lead my men if someone was to happen to me or to my city."_

"_I," Alistair swallowed, grabbing her hand to hold in his. "Just be careful."_

_Ashiva smiled, squeezing his hand in comfort. "Don't I always?"_

* * *

><p><em>Alistair.<em> The name brought warmth and comfort to her broken body. She could remember his face-bright blue eyes and a crooked smile and his obsession with cheese.

She also remembered the Grey Warden prison. It is where she encountered the dark magic that had disturbed her for years and where she met the Orlesian Warden-Commander, Clarel. "Traitor," she whispered hoarsely. Her memory was beginning to come back to her momentarily, jumbled and unclear, but still returning nonetheless.

She squinted into the dimly lighted room, taking in the details of the enclosed space. Red stalactites covered the walls surrounding her. Her right leg, broken by a corrupted Warden, was now properly splinted, meaning she had been unconscious for some time. She couldn't call on her magic, the observation making her realize that someone was able to make anti-magic wards nearby. Propping herself on the metal bars of the cage, she brushed her hand along the twisted ropes around her right wrist. She knew it was promises to someone from her past but the throbbing pain in her head disrupt her from that memory.

"My name is Ashiva Surana. I am the Arelessa of Amaranthine. I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," she thought aloud the titles she had become familiar with for a decade, fighting for some focus in the scattered images in her mind. "I am a mage. I am the Hero of Ferelden. I am Ashiva Surana."

"_You won't be for much longer_," the melodic voice whispered, blending harmoniously to the music that left her with an unsound mind.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was the voice in her head? Was it a demon? Had she be forced into the fade? Holding the bracelet tighter, she clung to the remaining understanding she possessed. "My name is Ashiva Surana. I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden and Arlessa of Amaranthine. I am a mage. I am the Hero of Ferelden. I am a mage, an elf."

* * *

><p><em>The weeklong traveling had left her weary and exhausted. Her dreams of darkspawn had evolved to incorporate her fear of water. She never felt more relieved to see land than when she saw the ancient Tevinter statutes that marked Kirkwall's docks. <em>

_Stepping a foot onto the brick docks, the elf checked with her subordinates, issuing orders in preparation for their trek into the mountains. She glanced at Nathaniel, handing him the maps she acquired. "I want you to take a few men and investigate the deep road ruins not far from here. I assume Bethany gave you instructions as to getting there."_

_The rogue nodded, folding the documents and tucking them into his armor. "Are you sure you want to leave me with this?"_

_Ashiva smiled, resting her hand on his shoulder. "I have my trust in you to find what the First Warden wants and to return safely, my friend. I don't trust anyone more than you to do this," she comforted. "Take five with you. You can choose whoever you like."_

_He acknowledged her with a slight nod, before stepping forward to shout at some of the wardens. She smiled, watching as her second-in-command and long-time friend stood tall. Ashiva could remember when she had found him dirty and dishonored in a prison cell. Distrust was apparent in their first encounters, their conversations brisk and her eyes always watching him. Soon though, that distrust disappeared. She now couldn't imagine being without him in Kirkwall, fighting fabled dark magisters and darkspawn. _

_Oghren laughed heartedly next to her, patting her roughly on the back. "Don't get too sentimental there, boss. At least wait until you have a couple of beers in you."_

_The elf coughed, clearing her throat. She looked down at the dwarf, grinning widely. "Do please save a few, Oghren? I'd hate to miss out on our drinking games."_

_The warden scoffed, raising his axe onto his shoulder with ease. "Aye, I'll try. But you best hurry up, or else I will finish the keg before you even step foot into Lowtown."_

_Shaking her head, she waved the dwarf off. Her wardens would be fine without her watching over them. The need to move urged her forward, her eyes wandering the wares and the colorful banners hanging above the streets. Although she had been out of the Circle for nearly ten years, Ashiva was still in awe of the city. She often took trips to Amaranthine to partake in festivals and celebrations. _

_The elf wander through hightown, impressed with the climbing ivy growing on the stone mansions. The nobles gave her a wide girth, muttering to themselves. She knew their eyes followed her thirsting to have knowledge of her presence. She was grateful that they had little knowledge of who she was._

_She stopped in front of the towering building, the red banners blowing in the breeze. The chantry in Amaranthine was simple compared to the grandiose golden statues and stained glass windows. Drained from her trip, Ashiva surmised that prayer would invigorate her weary spirit. _

_She hadn't made it half way up the stairs when she collapsed, grasping her chest in surprise. Her mana was depleted leaving her defenseless. She didn't have to see the swords were pointed at her. Templars._

"_On behalf of the acting Viscount and Knight-Commander, you're coming with us," The man ordered, lifting her to her feet. She pushed away from the templar grabbing her arm, muttering incoherently. Why was it so hard to speak?_

_She was startled to feel metal clash against her cheek, yelping at the sudden contact. The mage coached herself to take deep breaths, laying on the marble steps. She felt the arms grab her again, dragging her down the steps. Ashiva stumbled to lift herself to her feet, her vision clearing. _

_There were two of them, faces covered by the grand helmet standard to the templar uniform. Swords were gripped tightly, ready to strike the "apostate" at their feet. Even in the blue and silver uniform, she was mistaken as a threat to the Order. Shakily, she moved forward, leaning heavily on the man to her left. _

"_You can't do this. This is the Commander of the Grey," Nathaniel shouted somewhere behind her. _

_Turning her head, she was surprised to see the archer step out from the shadows, bow aimed at the men holding her. Nathaniel had followed her around again. He often escorted her in Amaranthine, hiding in the shadows of the buildings and battlements. The rogue believed her something worth protecting. Was her friend such a fool to put the wardens in jeopardy because of her? She wouldn't resist when she had men to protect. "Nathaniel, stand down," commanded the mage. She caught a glimpse of Nathaniel's dark eyes, cold and calculated on his next victim. "Warden, you have your duties. Perform them well, and I shall join you soon."_

"_Ash-"_

"_Nate, do not make me ask you again," she snapped. Standing upright, head held high, she eyed the templar that held her elbow. "You have me. Take me to your Knight-Commander. I would love to hear why they need to dispel a Grey Warden of their mana when they haven't threatened anyone."_

_She was lead through the Gallows, templars and mages alike staring as she walked by them. She could hear the whispers. 'Grey Warden?' 'Hero of Ferelden?' She stumbled alongside the templar, fighting the curses that she wanted to shout._

_They halted in front of the large office. Well furnished in bookshelves and an ornate desk, she sat down in the high back red velvet chair. She looked around, her gaze falling on the broad shouldered woman sitting across from her at the desk._

"_I presume you are the Knight-Commander," the elven mage stated bitterly, crossing her arms across her chest. _

"_Yes, and you are a warden. What are you doing in Kirkwall?"_

_Ashiva lifted her eyebrows, astonished. This was not the first time she had entered the city. Her and many others had traveled back and forth with little problems in the past. Why was it now that she had been seized and taken to the Gallows? "We have business outside of Kirkwall."_

"_What business?"_

_Barging in, an elf dressed in enchanted robes, his dark eyes incensed. "Knight-Commander Meredith, this is completely uncalled for," he declared, moving to stand beside the warden. "This is a Grey Warden. You are withholding this warrior from their duty by keeping her and the other Wardens trapped in the keep."_

"_Warden or not, Orsino, she is still a mage and I will not have her or the others parading through the town causing havoc," the templar answered._

_Looking between the two, Ashiva could sense the tension between them. She had heard the rumors of mage rebellion in Kirkwall and the tightened grip of the knight-commander. She never realized it was this bad. She remained silent, hoping to not stir the pot farther._

_The door opened again. Ashiva frowned, turning to see who else wanted to join their little party. The familiar silver metal and insignia of the Templar order was engraved into the armor. Her eyes traveled upward, startled to see golden eyes and short curly chestnut colored hair. He hadn't shaved recently, but the sincerity she was accustomed too was there. "Cullen," she whispered unwittingly._

* * *

><p>"<em>Cullen."<em>

He darted out of the bed falling onto the wooden floor tangled in blankets. Bewildered, he looked around. Cullen wasn't in the circle tower, nor was he watching from a distance her cries for help. He was in his loft, staring at the torn holes in the ceiling. He knew it was night, the stars twinkling. Untangling himself and putting on his leather boots, he left the safety of his office.

The mountain air was crisp, wisps of air visible as he exhaled. Crossing his arms on the stonewalls, he observed the small fires surrounding the keep. He could hear the cheers and shouts in the tavern contrasting to the light and delicate lute played by the minstrel. He would normally close his eyes, relaxing to the calamity being here, but tonight the images behind his eyelids were averting and frightening. Watching his love repeatedly tortured and killed before him, agitated him. The dreams had gotten worse the longer he was left with no news.

The faint sound of footsteps alerted him of a prowler. Resting his hand on the pommel of his sword, he turned his head. The Orlesian Bard stepped out of the darkened shadows. "Andraste, Leliana," Cullen muttered under his breath, shifting his weight to allow the spymaster to lean against the battlements. "You could have alerted me it was you."

Leliana chuckled, tucking a red strand of hair back behind her ear. She had lowered her hood, revealing her delicate features. Her pale blue eyes glowed in the firelight, like a cat stalking her prey. The templar found it unnerving that she could hide in the shadows like a ghost, appearing and disappearing, as she liked. "Maybe next time," she stated, lightness in her voice he was unaccustomed to.

Cullen rubbed his neck, nerves overcoming his thought process. It was common for the bard and Antivan woman to tease him. Evelynn had picked up on this in the war room, smirking, as she would add to the tormenting conversation. Now though, he felt vulnerable. Leliana was an accomplished spymaster, seeming to know everything about everyone in Skyhold. "What can I do for you?"

The Nightingale cradled her head in her arms, her eyes distant and cold. "Did I ever tell you the story about when Ashiva arrived in Haven?"

The warrior's mouth twitched into a grimace, the mention of the mage that captivated him. Even now, he was willing to resign his position from the Inquisition and track the woman himself although he had destroyed her phylactery; he had kept a small part for himself, hidden in his desk. "No, I don't think so," he answered politely.

"We had marched for days from Denerim. The further south we went, the colder it seemed to get, but Ashiva wouldn't quit. She kept going, determined. She had made choices that haunted her at Redcliff, letting the little boy die. She didn't want to repeat the same mistake," Leliana recalled. "We arrived in Haven exhausted, to find the place not what we expected. There was so much blood. It was...unnerving. We cleared the village, and made camp in one of the buildings that didn't have so much gore. Through her scavenging, she had stumbled on a tavern."

Leliana laughed softly, face full of mischief. "We ended up playing a game she played often in the circle. How she found the dice, she never told me, but here we were gambling. The first one out was Alistair. Poor fool had no skills in lying. Then Oghren became incapacitated. He kept drinking when he wasn't supposed to. And the game continued till there were only a few of Ash and us. I don't remember how the game ended but when I woke in the morning, I sneaked to see how she had accomplished this task. I unveiled her dice and found them blank. There were no marks whatsoever. I learned then not to play any dice games with her."

Cullen chuckled. He could imagine Ashiva cheating to win. It reminded him how she would cheat when she played chess. Once in a while he would let her. It added a challenge to the game. "I can imagine her doing that."

Leliana looked up, her face etched in curiosity and sadness. "Which brings me to why I'm here. Ashiva is a dear friend to me. I had hoped you would come to me if something was to happen to her," she spoke softly. "Alistair came to me before he left. He told me of the letter you received and that you asked for him to seek her out. Why didn't you tell me?"

Frowning, the templar clenched his fist. Of course the warden would go to the spymaster. They had traveled with each other for a year. Avoiding her gaze, he watched his men patrol the battlements. "I wasn't trying to keep this from you. I didn't think much of it until Alistair arrived and explained his knowledge on the whereabouts of the Grey Wardens. I went to him because she isn't usually far behind him. They've confided in each other for so long," he fought to keep the jealousy out of his voice. "I didn't think her disappearance was a concern of the Inquisition. The Inquisitor has enough on her hands as it is."

"Maybe the Inquisitor is busy, but I could have still looked into this. If I had known, I would have already sent my agents out. She could have already returned safely," Leilana chided, her eyes darkening in anger. "She is like a sister to me. If something were to happen to her...I-I don't know what I would do."

Cullen nodded his head, unable to argue with the woman. She was right. He failed again. He could imagine Ashiva now, a lopsided smile and eyes bright. "_I know you're not that great at this...but, I'm just thrilled you're willing to try this with me._" She would whisperer, her hand resting in his as if it had always been there. Her small pale hand always seemed to fit in his bulky armored one perfectly. He was disappointed to see his hand empty. He had felt hollow since she had waved him goodbye on top of the spotted horse she adored. There was a chance he wouldn't see her smile or feel her hand in his again.

Leliana grabbed his arm, drawing him out of his misery. "Lady Trevelyn reported back. She said that they found Grey Wardens under the influences of the Venetori. They were sacrificing themselves, to summon demons," she explained. "Alistair also wrote that Ashiva wasn't present, but they did find someone that was traveling with her in the dungeon. They haven't been able to question him but they will be returning soon. I asked Scout Harding and a few other agents to search the area to clear the area and to also to check to make sure nothing was missed. I have faith they will find something."

"What makes you so sure? Alistair didn't notice anything and neither did the Inquisitor," Cullen challenged.

Leliana smirked, standing upright and crossing her arms across her chest. "One, Alistair is a warrior and not necessarily the best to keep an eye on details. Evelyn doesn't even know what to search for concerning our friend. I wouldn't be surprised at all if she didn't know you were in a relationship. You tend to be reserved when it comes to discussing your loved ones," she pointed out. "Also, they're not me and haven't be trained by me."

"Harding will return in a few days with the information. In the mean time, we should be getting supplies and equipment. I have a feeling we will be forced to wield blades against the Grey Wardens," she added, walking away. "Goodnight Cullen. I'll see you in the War Room tomorrow."

Cullen watched her walk away. It looked as if her form slowly dissolved in the darkness, leaving him alone to his thoughts. Although small, he still had hope for Ashiva. With Leliana and Alistair searching, perhaps they would be able to find her before everything was destroyed.

Weary with these thoughts, he kneeled on the hard rock surface, impervious to the thoughts and rumors that could rise about him in this moment of weakness. There was only one thing he could do in the meantime. Closing his eyes, he began to pray.

"The Light shall lead her safely

Through the paths of this world, and into the next.

_Maker, please watch over her as you have done countless times before. _

For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.

As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,"

_Keep her safe._

"She should see fire and go towards Light.

The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,

_Give her strength in her weakest hour._

And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker

Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword."

_Bring her home._


	3. Chapter 3

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

**Chapter 3**

A/N: Thank you to all of you who continue to follow/favorite this story and continuing to read. I don't know if I can promise updates to be this fast, but I am happy to get another chapter written so soon. Here is a shout out to **xxxkris44**, **Kyla Baines**, **mateusoc**, and **dekicobee**.

Also, I do not own anything Dragon Age. I just like to play in Bioware's playground. :)

* * *

><p>The Frostback Mountains were magnificent to observe throughout the day. In the morning, the sun reflected off them, the snow glistening. In the day, storms would settle on the peaks, leaving more snow on the peaks. Then in the evening, the sun fell behind them, the grey and white landscape contrasting with reds and purples in the sky. If Alistair was an artist, he would sit in the battlements for weeks, painting the different phases. He knew his friend would have enjoyed this spectacle.<p>

"Ash," he whispered, resting his head on the cold wall. The warden regretted his decision. He should of tried harder to convince her. They could have searched for a cure together. He could have kept her from this mess with the wardens. If push came to shove, at least they could have fallen together. Now though, he was left to figure out what happened next.

Alistair remembered many years ago his confessing his dislike of making hard decisions. During the Blight, he had left it to Ashiva. She didn't complain, taking on the leadership with grace. She led their misfit group to victory, uniting Ferelden and defeating Urthemiel, the archdemon of the Fifth Blight. Although they were all heros, she respectively held the title as the Hero of Ferelden. Since those days though, she had pushed more responsibility out of him, recruiting men around Thedas, and leading expeditions into the Deep Roads to find answers. Without him knowing, he had soon grown into the leader he once thought he couldn't be. Men looked up to him.

When he mention this to his elven friend she had only smiled, a smile he only thought for him, resting the pen on her desk. _"Alistair, you've always been a leader of great potential. You just had to find it for yourself," _she said softly, eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "_Duncan would be proud of he man you have become, as am I._"

He didn't feel proud of himself though. After finding evidence of the Warden corruption he had ran, dodging them at every turn. He had hid on the coastlines of Ferelden, and had sought help from the only person he could think of, Hawke.

He had meet Garrett Hawke in Kirkwall during the Qunari revolted in the city. It had been a short introduction, but the two became familiar as time went on. Alistair remembered the day Hawke stepped into Vigil's Keep, the red paint across his nose making him obvious to anyone that knew the stories.

_Ashiva raised her eyebrows, startled by the warrior that parade into her base. "It seems we are now taking in refugees," she mused, her eyes following his every step._

_Alistair looked past the many steps to the Great Hall, choking on his water when he spotted what the mage mentioned. "What is he doing here?"_

_She shrugged, checking her left hip. Spellweaver vibrating with just the brush of her finger tips. He could feel the hair at the back of his neck stand on in. Closing his fingers tightly into a fist, he fought his natural instinct to cleanse the air around him. If the magic the sword possessed did that to him as he stood near her, how could she bear to wield it?_

_Hawke was nearly halfway up the stairs when archers came out of the shadows, arrows pointed at him. He waved his hands, indicating that he was unarmed. "I know I am a wanted man, but I have come to seek guidance in a matter I'd rather not mention to all of Thedas."_

_Chewing on her lip, Ashiva looked puzzled. The elf had become distant and distracted since she had returned from Kirkwall nearly a year ago. The things she witnessed there, followed by the tragic news that a Grey Warden, Anders, had destroyed the Chantry and started the mage and templar revolutions, she had slowly drifted into herself. She disappeared often, seeking ancient documents from various Circles of Magi. If she remained in the keep, Alistair often found her studying maps throughout the night. The map on the wall was marked with various locations of ancient thaigs and elven ruins throughout Thedas. Her obsession had started nearly two and a half years after the blight when she had found Morrigan. The witch had left her something before she had vanished again. Why Ashiva had left the apostate go what unclear to him. He knew they were close during the blight...but after, he remembered her haunted eyes as she pleaded with him._

"_Please Ali, I can't watch you die," she had whispered, as if she had already been broken and defeated. "I can't imagine a world without you...do this for me. For us."_

_He had completed the ritual for __**them**__. Yet, in the end, he could never forgive her or himself for taking this road. Although nothing had happened that night, he feared what would happen years from now. Would peace continue or dissolve into hopelessness because of their choices?_

_Jarred from his brooding thoughts, Alistair rested his hand on Ashiva's right hand now on the pommel of her sword. "I think we should hear him out, Warden-Commander."_

_Narrowing her eyes, she raised her hand to disarm the Wardens surrounding the Champion of Kirkwall. Hawke grinned, making his way up the stairs until he stood in front of them. The petite elf looked up at the warrior in distrust. "You want to talk? Lets go to my office."_

It was then that Garrett Hawke and he had become closer. The Champion had told his tale, concerning Red Lyrium and what it had done to the Knight-Commander. Ashiva had not been surprised, having already heard the story before in her travels, but the concern was apparent in the way she twisted her hands and paced the small space.

They had aided Hawke in his search; Alistair had sought out Dagna, an extraordinary Dwarf with interest in the Arcane. Ashiva left to seek assistance from Avernus in Soldier's Keep, one of their secrets they had kept from the First Warden. It wasn't until she had returned that he noticed lightness to her steps and brightness in her eyes that he hadn't seen in awhile.

_Alistair knocked on the door twice before he stepped into her private quarters. The small hearth was burning brightly, flickering with the mage's excitement. Her smile was broad as she wrote frantically on the parchment._

"_I see you are writing to our favorite templar. You should ask him to send some cheese from Kirkwall. I hear that it is full of flavors like mistrust and pride," he replied, sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed. _

_The elven woman blushed at the mention of the templar, stepping away from the small desk and sitting next to the warden on the bench, a scroll in her hand. Her hair was loose behind her back, wearing only a simple gown for bed. "I found something when I was with Avernus," she said, handing the ancient script to him._

_The warrior unraveled the document, reading the note carefully. He read it a second and third time before he looked at her in bewilderment. "Is it possible?"_

"_Morrigan helped us both survive the Fifth Blight. I wouldn't have thought anything of it until I remember seeing her in the Dragonbone Waste. She gave me part of the answer...and I found the other in Soldier's Keep," she explained. "I think it is possible that there is a cure."_

_Alistair analyzed the woman next to him. The Calling was something they had both feared, and had promised each other to not let the other go alone when the time came. It had been almost ten years since they became Grey Wardens. They were nearly halfway through their lives, she a mere twenty-eight and he thirty years. During the Blight, she had accepted the fate, but now, he noticed how restless she had become. She was a respectable woman now, Arlessa to Amaranthine, Warden-Commander of Ferelden and the newly appointed Arcane Specialist for Queen Anora (since the blighted woman had to keep up with Orlais). _

_Although she never mentioned it with him, he also knew of her affections for Knight-Commander Cullen in Kirkwall. They had grown closer over the years. She once every two months she would travel to the city-state on "business." He allowed her the little fib, only to keep his own heart from betraying his unacquainted affections for her. Her heart had been won over by the templar that had rejected her in the Circle of Magi. Alistair hated himself all the more, knowing at one time very long ago, he had her love and devotion and had thrown it away, because of her little request to keep them both alive._

"_That's great news. I also have some things to go over with you," commented Alistair, scratching his nose. "Five more wardens left our ranks this week from the Calling."_

_Her happiness faded into dejection. He hated seeing it. "I see," she breathed, rubbing the creases out of her gown. "That would be ten this month. How young were they?"_

"_Three years. They aren't they only ones hearing it though. I have heard murmurs in the practice areas of the men hearing singing," he added. "I have also begun to hear it."_

_Eyes widen, she grabbed both of his hands in hers. "No, it's too soon."_

"_I wouldn't keep you to your promise Ash," Alistair lowered his voice, intimately resting his hand on her cheek. "You have so much to live for."_

_Ashiva chewed her lower lip in silence, eyebrows lowered in deep thought. He lowered his hand with a sigh, watching the flames settle into embers, crackling in the quiet room. "Honestly, I don't think this is real. As you mentioned, it is too soon. Men who have been wardens half as long as us are falling on their swords in the deep roads. Too many at once are hearing the song. I think something else is happening."_

_She nodded her head, agreeing with him. "This is too important to ignore. I will have Oghren keep account of the men while I'm gone."_

_It was Alistair's turn to gape at her. "While you're gone?"_

_She looked sheepishly at him. "After finding this information, I booked voyage to Kirkwall. Although this news unsettles me, it only reminds me of how important it is to find the cure for our short lives. There must be a way for us to continue our duties without so much sacrifice," she answered, eyes burning in resolve. "Nathaniel and I leave tomorrow."_

"_Absolutely not. I'm coming with you," he raised his voice. "The last time you went somewhere with Nathaniel, you were nearly broken and reclusive for months. You didn't eat nor sleep. I had to beg Cera to create a sleeping draught to force you to rest."_

_The elven mage frowned, disagreement plainly written in her expression. "I've already made my decision. Nathaniel and I will be leaving tomorrow for Kirkwall," she declared stubbornly. "Alistair, since you have suspicion that the wardens disappearing is a false, I want you to look into it. Find out what is happening to my wardens and I shall seek out the cure we had hoped to find. I will leave Vigil's Keep in Oghren and Seneschal Garevel's hands. Hopefully they won't destroy the place while we're gone."_

It had been eleven months and twenty-six days since that conversation. They had written each other little, mostly in code to keep curious eyes at bay. It had been three months since he left the Orlesian Wardens, and the last of their conversations ceased. He hadn't thought much of it, not until he arrived in Skyhold, Cullen breathing down his neck.

_And now she's gone,_ He thought bitterly, glaring at the mountains. He slammed his fist against the railing.

"No matter how much you hit the wall, it isn't going to solve our problems."

Alistair tilted his head to the side, rolling his eyes as the warden archer stepped forward. "Nathaniel, so nice of you to join the living again."

The former nobleman stood tall, crossing his arms. His left eye remained bruised, but his hair was finally groomed and pulled back from his face like it commonly was. He wore a loose fitting white shirt and dark trousers tucked into his leather boots. The armor remained to be a problem for the rogue, too tight around the injured ribs.

"If you think your witty remarks is going to help me, you need to reconsider," Alistair said. "Everything is just falling apart around us. While I'm use to that, I'm not use to the problem being us. The Grey Wardens are throwing everything away for what, fear?"

Sighing, Nathaniel looked out at the view around them. "True, but that doesn't mean we can't stop fighting. In War…"

"Victory," Alistair joined. "In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice."

"We will stop the Corypheus and restore order to the Grey Wardens," Nathaniel assured, turning away from him.

Alistair turned to look as well, hearing the shouts. A man rushed to them, the Inquisition logo painted on the leather armor. He pressed his fist to his chest, saluting before rambling his orders. "Warden Alistair, the Inquisitor has requested your presence in the war room."

* * *

><p>"Warden Alistair will be joining us," Evelyn said, leaning against the large wooden table. "I think his knowledge of the Grey Wardens would best benefit us in preparing our strategy for Adamant Keep."<p>

Josephine wrote on her pad diligently. "Of course, Inquisitor," she answered, handing the parchment to the Herald. "I found some able-bodied workmen to mount the dragon head. It's rather...vulgar for my tastes, but the nobles have found it to be endlessly entertaining."

Evelyn smiled. "I hope you didn't put it in my bedroom Josie. I don't really want to remember that fight in the Hinterlands. My back still hurts just thinking of it."

The ambassador laughed quietly. "Not this time, your grace. Also, Orzammar has pledged themselves to our cause. Lord Harrowmont has sent some of his most formidable warriors from the Legion of the Dead and is willing to offer his wealth."

"How generous," Leliana declared, moving to stand next to Josephine. "I am surprised he even noticed that something was happening on the surface. His uncle was so focused on traditions."

"And what goodies do you have for me today, spymaster," Evelyn asked.

The red-head pointed to the Ferelden side of the map near The Bannorn. "We located the missing Seekers. We heard rumors of Bann Loren, who had not been heard from for months. I sent agents to investigate Caer Oswin, but they went silent. I believe it is connected somehow and the missing Seekers will be found there."

"Have you told Cassandra?"

"Yes, Inquisitor" Leliana answer as the door opened behind them.

The Inquisitor was startled to see the Commander late. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy and face unshaven. Although his armor was pristine and he walked in the hall as he normally did, she noticed his hands shaking and the perspiration on his forehead. "Lady Trevelyan, I'm sorry for my tardiness."

Evelyn smiled at the formal title. "Oh Ser Cullen, you're only fashionably late. We're still waiting a few others before we get too much into business."

Cullen paused in his task of neatly stacking his paperwork looking up at her. "Others?"

"Well, only one," she clarified, picking at her nails lazily. "Warden Alistair knows tactics and the layout of Adamant fortress. He will be assisting us in strategy."

"I...see," the Commander slowly stated. He nearly managed to hide his displeasure at the mention of the warden, as he handed the report to her. "We manage to clear the road near Fallow Mire. The soldiers are grateful for being spared to trek across the Frostbacks. I also have a request for patrols near the Sutherlands."

Taking the document, Evelyn read the neatly written report. She looked over the map, the markers placed sporadically around the large oak table. "Cullen, let the boy have some control on this. Well assist them, as long as they repay us in gold."

Cullen nodded, jotting a quick note on the report.

The room grew quiet after that, the warrior becoming antsy with the time that slowly drifted by. Reports were passed to one another, small chat over various matters followed in the room.

Leliana looked up, concern. "How are you feeling?"

"A headache, nothing more," Cullen answered quickly, moving one of the targets on the map.

Alistair stepped into the room hesitantly, closing the door behind him. "Inquisitor, you sent for me."

"Good, we're all here," Evelyn clapped her hands together. She encouraged the warden to stand next to her.

The Fifth Blight had begun when she was only ten. Listening to the stories of the Hero of Ferelden, uniting Ferelden and defeating the archdemon, she had become fascinated with the Grey Wardens. On one of her many family trips, they had made their way to Denerim for Feast Day. She remembered standing in awe, looking at the infamous Fort Drakon, towering overhead, and shadows settling in the evening light. She wanted to run from her family and into the building, looking for signs of the battle. She never expected to meet anyone that fought in the Battle of Denerim, much less one of the only two Grey Wardens that had been there. But here she was now, the Herald of Andraste, socializing with Leliana, a veteran and comrade of the Grey Wardens and _the _Alistair Theirin. She nearly grew faint at the thought.

Now wasn't the time though to demand stories from those present ten years ago. There were bigger problems to face. Evelyn cleared her throat. "I believe you already know Leliana and Cullen," she introduced. "This lovely lady here is the Inquisition Ambassador, Josephine Montilyet."

"A pleasure Warden Alistair. We are grateful to have an ally like you on our side," the ambassador said, her voice smooth and controlled.

"Thank you, Ambassador," Alistair replied, moving a map onto the table. "This is what I have on Adamant Fortress. A friend of mine at Vigil was able to find this old draft of the building. The structure is stable and will take much to get through the gates, but luckily it is an older building and can be taken down if the right equipment."

"Perhaps if we had trebuchet," Josephine mused out loud.

"They were all destroyed at Haven," Cullen interrupted.

Humming, the Inquisitor scratched at her head. "That isn't good. Perhaps we can borrow one."

"Yes, but our resources are still limited," Leliana retorted. "Any news from the Empress Celene, Josie."

"No, I think any missives we sent have been ignored or intercepted," the Antivan woman looked dejected relaying the news. "But we have received an invitation to attend a gathering at Halamshiral at the next full moon."

"That's nearly a month away," said the Herald, shocked. "There's no way we can reach the Western Approach and back in that amount of time."

"Once you have protected Empress Celene, I think there will be more offers to assist us in our objectives. In the meantime I will add some pressure to a few of my contacts in the area and see if I can find something we can use," Josephine advised. "In the meantime, I received a missive from Edouard Desjardins from Emprise Du Lion. He speaks of red crystals growing in the fields and helmeted men around the village quarry."

"My agents also found evidence leading to Emprise du Lion," Leliana added.

The Commander tensed, eyes staring at the spymaster hard. "Evidence?"

"Here, you read it."

Cullen took the document carefully, trying to keep his hands from shaking so much. "Benedict, Pull up stakes. All plans for the "Mine" in the Western Approach are off. The Inquisition's on the move and headed your way. Dump all the bodies and relocate to Emprise du Lion. Take the Warden with you. Corypheus has plans."

"Warden," Alistair whispered the word in question, face pale. "Could it be?"

"Please tell me there was something else," Cullen demanded.

Evelyn looked between the two men. Warden Alistair looked like he would collapse, shock written on his face. Commander Cullen looked as if he was ready to strangle the spymaster, jaw clenched, fist tight around the mangled parchment. She had only seen him once like this; throwing the lyrium across the room, fist punching the solid bookcase. Whoever this warden was, it must have been someone important. "What warden? We found Nathaniel in the Western Approach. There is another warden you know?"

"Ashiva Surana," Alistair named. "Nathaniel was traveling with her before they were captured. I had hoped I would of found her with him, but apparently they decided otherwise. She easily is a strong influence on the Grey Wardens. I didn't know if it was something I should've told you, Inquisitor."

"I feel I missing something," the Inquisitor admitted, eyes downcast. "Is this Ashiva someone I should know."

"Only the most known warden in all of Thedas. Warden-Commander Surana of Ferelden and Hero of Fifth Blight in Ferelden," Leliana informed lightly, a small smile on her lips. "If Nathaniel's information is correct and he had only been in the Western Approach, there is still a chance the she is alive."

"The Hero of Ferelden," Evelyn repeated in awe. This sounded more like one of Varric's cheesy adventure tales. The air felt heavier to breath in the enormous room. Tension was rising between two advisors; one chatting with Alistair while the other remained silent, brooding. "So, you're thinking that the Hero of Ferelden was taken to Emprise du Lion by the Red Templars."

"It makes sense," Josephine stated. "The Hero would be a strong influence on the Wardens. If she didn't agree with something, it would only make sense to take her out. But why would the Red Templars have her, I wonder."

The auburn haired woman turned at hearing the commander mutter under his breath incoherently. Was he swearing? "Commander Cullen, are you well."

"No...I mean yes," Cullen stuttered, before sighing. "I'm just alarmed by these current events. Whatever is happening it must be stopped soon. I'll send troops there immediately to clear a path. They should be there in two days."

"Cullen," Leliana lowered her voice, resting her hand on the man's broad shoulder. "We'll find her."

"Maker, I hope so."

Chewing on her lip, Lady Trevelyan studied the two. She rarely saw this side of the Spymaster. Was this how she was when she was a young bard? She comforted the Cullen, his shoulder hunched, head leaned forward as if he was a broken man. "I know you mentioned the Circle before, Cullen and how she was one of your charges."

"She isn't just a charge your worship," Cullen muttered.

Alistair cleared his throat. "If you are to go to Emprise du Lion, Inquisitor, I would like to join you. Ashiva is a friend of mine, and I won't be able to rest until I know she is safe."

Evelyn smiled. "Good. The more the merrier is what I think."

"And I as well."

Shocked, blue eyes turned to gaze at in amber orbs. "Commander?"

His laughter did not ease her. It was harsh and bitter, like the blizzard she had nearly froze in months ago. She felt the chill run down her spine, her hands numb and lifeless. Cullen looked at her, mouth set in a firm frown. "You don't understand," he said exasperated, rubbing his forehead slowly. "The Ferelden Warden-Commander, The Hero of the Fifth Blight, the slayer of the archdemon, Urthemiel, Senior Enchanter of Kinloch Hold, Ashiva Surana...she is my wife."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I tried to keep much of the conversations and reports in the war room similar with small twist since advisors are summarizing the events to the Inquisitor. I also took liberties in the note found in the Forgotten Mine in the Western Approach. No it doesn't mention the warden in the game, but I have to make it work for where the plot is going.


	4. Chapter 4

**May the Maker Watch Over You **

**Chapter 4**

**A/N: **Thank you to **ErsbethShadowSong**, **Kyla Baines**, **writingNOOB**, **Amethyst-Guardian-Lycure**, **LurkingRoseDust** and **indy's girl** for the favorites, story alerts, and comments! They make my day every time they show up on my email. Also, please take some time to leave a review after reading. I love to hear what people think as they read this. Also, if anyone has suggestions, I'm always willing to listen and see if it will work with what I have in mind.

This chapter was fun to write. I tried to have some lighter moments in this chapter since the previous chapters have been very dark. Enjoy!

**Inspiration: **Dragon Age II Legacy, Dragon Age: Awakening, Ser-Prace-A-Lot, Kasparov's Immortal Chess Game, What We Become by Crisium (another wonderful Cullen/mage story here on fanfiction), Dragon Age Inquisition Champions of the Just.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything but a copy of the Dragon Age: Inquisition game. All rights belong to Bioware.

* * *

><p><em>They were had made their way through into the Circle of Magi before Cullen grabbed the petite mage and dragged her into the nearest vacant room, a cramped Tranquil closet for runes and herbs. He pressed her against the door, looming over her.<em>

"_What are you doing here Ashiva," he interrogated, keeping her trapped between the door and him._

_She had to look up to him, her lips turned up into a smirk. "You were there, Cullen. I'm doing my duty as a Grey Warden. I didn't realize that was a crime here in Kirkwall. I will be sure to let the First Warden know so that I won't have to do these crappy jobs. I always hated being on a boat."_

"_No, I mean…" the templar stuttered, his words leaving him. "You didn't write. You have always informed me when you were arriving."_

"_There wasn't time to write," Ashiva replied, resting her arm on his forearm. "I received the news only before we left. I couldn't dally around when there is something like this hanging over our heads."_

_Cullen looked at her carefully. The elf looked tired, ready to collapse at any moment. A bruise was forming on her small face, a small cut where the armor had cut through her skin when the templar at hit her across the face. Anger flared up in him, not resisting as he moved his gloved hand to brush the discolored skin. "I'll find who did this to you. They had no reason to attack you."  
><em>

_Ashiva glared. "Don't bother, Cullen. I've had worse happen to me," she scoffed. "I'm just an elven mage to them. Nothing more. Especially not an equal that risked her life so that they could beat another mage."_

"_That's unfair-"_

"_It's the truth," she interrupted with a hiss._

_Sighing, Cullen released her from his grip, missing her warmth as he pulled away. He had stumbled into Meredith's office just in time. Although the meeting had went vastly long, they had finally came to agreement. Ashiva and the other Grey Warden mages would stay in the Circle until they left Kirkwall to venture into the Vinmark Mountains. Although satisfied with those terms, Meredith had insisted the Wardens would be escorted outside of Kirkwall by a few selected Templars. Ashiva disagreed, but finally gave up the battle with a frown._

_Needless to say, Cullen had volunteered to escort the Wardens. It would be nice to get fresh air after being cooped up in the city for months. He also thought it would be nice to finally have time to speak to the woman that stood before him for an extended amount of time. They had only communicated through short conversations in a tavern and briefer missives, her writing disguised as a new recruit distantly related to him._

_Although it was often the mages that were the first to state the importance of secrecy in the Circle, Templars were no better. Whatever their relationship, it was forbidden. Although Ashiva was no longer in the Circle, he feared what the repercussions would be if it were known of their continued relationship. _

"_I'll be personally picking the men that will be going with us to the Vinmark Mountains. This will not happen again, not while I am watching," he vowed._

_He was gifted with a small smile, gratitude reflected in her eyes. "I believe you," she whispered. He heard the latch on the door. "I'll step out first. I was wanting to investigate the library here...see if there are any books I haven't read through."_

_Cullen grinned. "You were always reading…"_

_Ashiva's smile seemed sad, her eyes glancing at the elfroot in the corner. He forgotten. Kinloch Hall was a topic they avoided. There were too many memories, many overshadowed by terror. Before she could escape though, he caught her in his arms, his large form pressing around her lithe frame. "Ash-"_

_He felt her arms wrap around his waist, her breath caressing his neck. He clung to the moment, only letting go when she pulled away. He saw the mask of the Warden-Commander now. She was no longer the fragile, loving mage he was accustomed to in the tower. She was fierce and powerful. This woman had stared down death, plunging the blade through the dark demon's head. He didn't know if he should admire this side of her, or be cautious of it._

"_I'll leave you to your duties, Knight-Captain," she stated, clipped and firm._

* * *

><p>Hunched over the desk, fingers gripping tightly the edge, Cullen glared at the carved wooden box. The tools were left carefully in the red velvet compartments, pristine. His stomach churned, staring at the vigilant Andraste. Her eyes stared back at him, reserved, sad. His fingers craved to touch the figurine, the tools. His body yearned to mix the ingredients, to drink, to feel the cool liquid go down his throat.<p>

He growled, shoving the box closed, throwing it into his desk. He made a promise to the Maker, to the Inquisition, to _her_ that he would stop. He would not go mad from the addiction. Yet, it killed him. His head pounded, muscles spasmed often. He woke in a cold sweat, trying to grab a hold of her, cling to her like his life depended on it. Delirious, he'd half expected to hear her whispered comforts, her finger tracing runes onto his back as he woke from his nightmares. Investigating the bed and finding it empty, he would sigh, roll over, and look up at the stary sky through the cracked roof.

"I didn't know you were married."

Startled from his thoughts, the commander looked up. He hadn't heard the Inquisitor open his door and walk in. She was leaning on the desk in her usual spot, arms crossed, forehead scrunched puzzled or maybe concerned. He couldn't discern which. "Inquisitor."

He admired her strength, her courage to face this darkspawn magister. The Herald wore her hair different today, a ponytail, swishing back and forth behind her head as she shook her head with a small smile on her face. "All this time, I thought you were a workaholic. You rarely took time off, rest your feet. I never saw your eyes linger on any of the barmaids, or any maidens for that matter. I was almost under the impression you enjoyed the company of men until-"

"Andraste," Cullen muttered under his breath. "I didn't think it something you would be interested in knowing. We do have higher priorities than knowing my personal relationships."

"No...its just I'm surprised," Evelyn carefully said. "From what I know of the infamous Hero is that she was a mage."

"She is," Cullen corrected.

"And you were a templar," she added, waving her hand in emphasis. "It sounds like something from one of Varric's lovesap novels Cassandra grovels over."

He chuckled, moving away from his desk. "Yes, I once was, and no, I don't think our story would fit well with Varric's writing style," he commented, leaning on the desk next to her. "Even if he didn't get the notion to write our life, Ash would probably string him up one of the flagpoles and burn his trousers."

The Inquisitor smiled slyly, peering at him from the corner of her eye. "I'll be sure to warn him," she said with mirth. Her smile faded though, her face turning to look at him, concern etched in her face. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. We'll find her, you have my word."

Cullen didn't want promises. He wanted his wife here, now, safe and unharmed, scowling as she complained that she could take care of herself. Sighing, he pushed from the desk. "Care for a game of chess?"

"Oh, so you want to lose another round, Commander? I'm up for it."

* * *

><p><em>The trek through the mountains had been hard. The Grey Wardens pushed forward, chatting with each other lightly, as if they weren't marching to a dark prison that held something sinister. Although there had been little information, Cullen knew it had to be bad. Why else would Ashiva go herself bringing powerful mages and warriors alike. She had sent her other Wardens, those she had mentioned in many letters to him to the Deep Roads to investigate ruins. <em>

_During the nights, they would camp under the skies. Cullen often found the elven mage sitting alone, sharpening her blade, or just staring at the fires. Once in awhile he could feel the veil open around her, the fires dancing more than they usually did. They had conversed little, keeping the appearance of mage and templar, nearly strangers. It bothered him. Many of the nights he would dig out the delicate letters reading them. Some were full of humor, Wicked Grace in the Great Hall, pranks on the Dwarf, and celebrations in the city. Other times they held confessions and apologies for things in the past, things that continued to haunt her. After putting the letters away at night and leaving for his tent, he sometimes believed he felt her warm amber eyes watching him, unreadable and glowing in the firelight._

_Cullen halted in his tracks, blade unsheathed. He could feel the distinct magic at the back of his mind. He knew it all too well._

"_Knight-Captain," Ashiva whispered, voice raised in question. She had not drawn her weapon, but her hand remained steady on it, eyes fixed on him._

"_Templars, be on your guard," he ordered, before looking at her. "I sense blood magic nearby."_

_She looked shocked. "Now? We're nearly a four days march away from the city."_

_He didn't reply, only pushing forward, leading his men. Around the bend in the mountains and he found them, Red Iron mercenaries. Cullen didn't have much time to plan strategy when he heard the shout "We have company!" He ducked the swing of the large man's axe, swiftly cutting him down before moving to the other. _

_He felt the area purged of magic, weakening their enemies. He struck another warrior before moving on. He was caught unguarded, a dagger cutting into his arm. He grunted, parrying the second attack. He was ready to strike when the rouge was consumed by fire, screaming in agony._

_Cullen turned, catching a quick glimpse of Ashiva casting another spell, a barrier around her men, blocking a slash to her legs with her sword. The weapon blazed, fire consuming the metal. "Focus," he scolded himself, facing the battle before him. He turned, catching the enemy cutting their arm, weaving a spell with the blood spilt. Grimacing, Cullen dodged the battles around him, fighting to get to the maleficarum. Striking the mage, he smited, them, destroying their connection to the fade and magic. Swiftly, he decapitated him. _

_A shriek alerted him, his head turning. The Warden-Commander was cornered, blocking the warrior's broadsword with difficulty. Wittingly, he plunged into the battle, bashing the man in the side with his shield. Stepping in front of the mage, the templar challenged the warrior._

_The mercenary took it, swinging his sword with force. Cullen dodge, parrying the attack, scratching the man's right arm. The man growled, eyes full of hatred. The templar could feel himself weakening, exhausted from the battle. Asking for strength, he lunged forward, striking the man over and over until he found an opening. Hitting the man with his shield, dazing him, he plunged the blade into the mercenary's abdomen. _

_The Knight-Captain pulled his sword out, cringing at the blood dripping from the metal. He looked around, counting numbers. The wardens seemed to be in fine, laughing merrily, his team to the side, pulling bodies to put into a large pile to burn. Turning around, Ashiva looked shocked, staring at him._

"_Ash, are you alright," he asked, kneeling next to her. The cut along her arm looked bad, but could had been worse. Other than a few scratches and blood splatters, she looked whole._

"_Cullen, your face," she whispered, fingers trembling as they brushed his shoulder._

_He tasted blood on his tongue and felt the warmth of the igor trickle down his chin. He touched his face, curious. He felt the cut along his right upper lip. It stung as he pressed on it._

"_Stop that," she chide, closing her eyes. He felt the magic, warm, and tingly before he saw the white light glow around her hand. She leaned against the boulder with a sigh, hand still rested on his face. Her eyes were filled with gratitude when they opened again. "Thank you."_

_That night, she didn't sit alone in camp. She sat next to him, arms encircled around her legs, telling him a recent story about Ser-Prance-A-Lot one of the soldiers of the Silver Order. He couldn't remember a time when he smiled as much._

* * *

><p>"So tell me about her," Trevelyan coerced, moving her bishop to take his.<p>

Cullen raised an eyebrow, curious about the offensive move. "Ash? What is there to say? She's a warden, elf, mage. She's clever yet caring. She has always seemed to be able to find the good in anyone," he answers, moving his queen.

Evelyn frowned, deflated by the bishop being taken. She looked at the board curiously. "Well, you said you were married."

"It's really new to me," Cullen stated, scratching at his nose. He moved his pawn. "We were married in the spring of 9:38 in Amaranthine. Ash was a hero in the city, and thus the revered mother married us in secret. I was...still a templar at the time, but I was going to resign from my duties soon."

"So you kept it a secret, keeping you both safe from the chantry."

"I was worried for her safety, not my own," he confirmed. "She was a mage, and one with power. I heard the whispers in Kirkwall. Many admired her, but many also feared her. She was an arlessa in Ferelden and had been appointed as an arcane advisor to Queen Anora. She was trusted by the court. Some said it was by blood magic, others said she was a witch. The Chantry feared the power she wielded, how untouchable she was, and how she could influence mages to rebel."

"I'm surprised," the noblewoman confessed. "So you married, knowing that it could be leaked and caused the Seekers to search for her."

"It wasn't like it was planned. Things...happened and then there we were in the chantry, whispering vows. It was unexpected," He chuckled, taking his turn. "And then I thought it had happened. After we married, I returned to Kirkwall, restoring order to the city-state. She would visit me from time to time. She always said it was a "business" trip, but I knew otherwise. She could have easily sent her ambassador. It wasn't until the leaves began to change that I heard a pounding at my room. I was going to ignore it but the pounding continue."

Evelyn moved her queen. Cullen smiled. "I opened the door, ready to reprimand one of the recruits when I see the hooded woman. Frightened, shaking and wet. Ash was being tracked with her phylactery by the Seekers. They had caught her in the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer, and she nearly escaped with the assistance of a Sister. She had ran, found passage on a boat and raced to Kirkwall. I feared the worst."

He took the castle with the knight. "I thought they knew. So I sent her to the only place I knew I thought was safe, Honneleath. I promised her I would meet her there. I honestly didn't think I would. I was going to make a deal, her life for mine. Let them take me to Aeonar."

"It was Leliana that came to me. She asked me questions, about Kirkwall, the Champion of Kirkwall, the Grey Warden mage, Anders. I waited for her to ask me about Ash, but she didn't say anything. Not until she stated that they needed soldiers like me. She told me if I assisted in the efforts to train men for the Inquisition, the Seekers would never know about Ashiva. I made the deal...and I was given her phylactery."

"You must have felt like a fool when you learned Leliana was a friend to the Hero of Ferelden. Why would she take her own friend in," Evelyn laughed.

"Yes, but I knew then that they couldn't look for her anymore. Without her phylactery, they had no way to track her easily. Once I was recruited by Cassandra, I found I enjoyed the work. It was honest work. I felt like I was doing something important," Cullen explained. "I still do."

"And where did she go, your wife?"

"Honestly, I don't know," he confessed. "She said it was Warden business, that whatever it was, it would give us more time. She looked like she was cornered and trying to find a way out. I didn't pry...or at least I tried not to. Ash always got defensive over the secrets Warden's kept."

The Herald's hand brushed against his over the game, blocking him from moving his pawn.

"We'll find her, Cullen. We'll find her."

* * *

><p>The elven mage walked around the ruins of the indestructible Vigil's Keep, rain cascading down from the darkened skies. Flames flickered throughout the keep, revealing the gruesome activities that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Soldiers dragged bodies onto the pyres, the smell of burning corpses burning her senses.<p>

She felt like she had been walking for days, non stop. She was cold, and exhausted. She limped around on her leg, shots of pain keeping her alert every time she stepped on the injured leg. The elf clutched her ribs, struggling to breath. Even through the pain, she couldn't remember how she had become injured in such a way, nor why she stood here in the Ferelden Warden keep. Why didn't this feel real?

Making her way to the staircase to the Grand Hall and looking over the keep, she crumbled onto the steps, hoping to gain some strength to make her way up the steps. She closed her eyes, trying to remember happier times, the sun shining, sounds of children singing, laughing and playing in the grass, arguments of the latest shipment of Orlesian fashion. Anything but the horror she met with, opening her eyes.

The soldier was rigid, silver hair glowed from the torches, silver armor gleaming. His hand was extended, a fatherly smile on his face. "Commander, it would be wise for you not to sit in the rain."

Ashiva gapped at him, unsure what to say. "Varel," her voice raised in question, taking his extended hand. She trusted this man with her life. He had offered her advice on the political situation on Amaranthine and had become close to her shortly after her arrrival. The older man had kept her on her feet, his devotion and loyalty always to the her. Seeing him now, off all places, the elf became weary of her surroundings. "You're dead."

It now becoming clear looking around her. The blurred columns, the faceless people, the greenish fog around her. "This isn't real...you're not real," she whispered, her voice echoing around her. "I'm in the fade."

Varel chuckled, his voice distorting slightly. "Is this shape useful, dearest Commander? Will it let me know you?"

The elf took a step back, searching for spellweaver, a staff, dager, anything to protect her from the abomination in front of her. She had nothing. Her armor was replaced by a brown wool tunic and black trousers. She breathed in deeply, trying to organize a plan.

"Everything tells me about you," Varel continued, moving around her. People emerged from the fog, figures she recognized. She was surrounded by wardens- Nathaniel, Sigrun, and Oghren were present. Even those who had passed on stood around her-Mhairi, Velanna and Anders. Her heart wrenched from her chest.

She clenched her fist to her side, mumbling under her breath. "This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real."

"Ashiva," the voice was light, almost teasing. She turned, her eyes gravitating to the blade. Alistair's smile was dark, his short dagger he always carried in his left boot placed to Cullen's throat. Cullen didn't fight, only looked beyond, lifeless.

"Ali, what are doing," she hushly demanded, staring between the two men she respected beyond any others. One, a former lover, now trusted friend and comrade. And then there was Cullen, the man she admired from afar in the Circle, the man she loved beyond all else, her rock and salvation.

"So will this," Alistair stated darkly. "Watch."

Ashiva bite her lip, tasted the coppery taste of blood on her tongue. _This isn't real_, she screamed in her head. She had to stay calm, to think logically. She was in the fade. _The fade_. The mage had encountered the dark realm countless times before. Why was it so hard for her to remember this?

Composing herself, she glared at the warden impersonator. "Are you trying to tempt me or copy me?"

The demon seemed to pause, thinking carefully. It wasn't until the sickening sound of a blade sinking into skin, did Ashiva cringe. Blood poured from Cullen's throat, his body crumbling to the floor. She was becoming delirious, panic washing over her in waves. _This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real._

Alistair looked at her, blood shimmering on the silver blade. Eyes bright, smile peculiar sent shivers down her spine. "Are you trying to copy me," the demon shouted, voice changing, more feminine and...hers.

Alistair had vanished into the fog. Ashiva couldn't keep her eyes off her beloved, blood pooling on the stoned steps. Where was Cullen? Was he safe? She remembered leaving him in Kirkwall, trying to remain strong for him. From the letters she received, he had joined the Inquisition and had left for Haven. She prayed silently that this wasn't real. Cullen was alive, somewhere, waiting for her to return. He maybe even was stabbing a few demons, in memory of her.

The demon laughed again, dark and sinister. Stepping forward, the imposter had changed again, peaceful eyes, aged skin and white hair. Wynne. Ashiva had heard of Wynne's passing. It tore at her, a mentor from the Circle of Magi, the kind woman who had taken her in, taught her, and was even patient enough to deal with all of them during the Blight. This monster wore the body of someone dear to her. The elf's stomach twisted in disgust. "Ahh...Warden-Commander Surana," the demon sighed, face full of hunger. "Being the Hero of Ferelden will be so much more interesting."

The room shifted, making her unbalanced and unfocused. The floor was solid, her elbows scrapped from the fall. Her face scrunched in pain, fighting the urge to scream as her muscles and bones screamed for her to stop moving. _Rest, give up_, they urged. Stubbornly, she made herself look up, recognizing the rows of bookshelves, violet, red, and blue books lining them. The stained glass windows reflected the familiarity and dread of being back here again-Kinloch Hold.

"You don't realize the power you possess...how much you can take with a flick of your hand. You'll see," Wynne lectured, pacing around her, arms behind her back as if she were teaching a lesson. "When I'm done, everything you worked for, everything you care about, will be _mine_. I will _be _you."

"Do you really think I'll just let you take over," questioned Ashiva in defiance, pushing herself to her feet. "My whole life I was warned about demons like you. I was forced into the fade at eighteen to confront and fight against your kind. I will not submit. I'd rather become Tranquil than let you possess my body."

"It doesn't matter what you think, mage. The Elder One has a plan, and he promised you to _me_," Wynne replied, unwavering.

Flabbergasted, Ashiva rested against the pillar, watching her former mentor walk back and forth. "The Elder One?"

"He will be disappointed to learn that you don't remember him. He remembered you quite fondly," the mage laughed. "He is between things. Mortal once, but no longer."

"Glory is coming. And the Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else: by dying in the right way," Wynne announced, placing her hands on Ashiva's shoulders.

Ashiva cringed, anger searing. She sneered at the abomination. "Then please, keep talking," she challenged. "I've always loved a monologue from my villain as I ripe their heart out of their chest."

Wynne looked offended, stepping back. The greyish blue eyes stared at her, as if they were burning through her. She turned away, leaving elven mage to her thoughts.

Ashiva sighed, pinching her nose. This was new. She often walked the fade, demons tempting her with fates beyond her imagination, taking the form of mice, bears and strangers, but to see those she cared for deceased walking, talking, as if it had all been a dream. It was maddening. Taking the one step at time, she nearly fell into the plush chair next to the desk she use to study at. Piles of books were stacked neatly, another laying neatly open next to her. She was tempted to look at the page, see if she recognized the text.

Her body was weakening, the stress overbearing. The elven women didn't know how long she would be able to keep fighting, not subcoming to the madness around her. She had no weapon, no armor, no protection whatsoever. Absently wrapping her hand around the bracelet she always wore, she whispered a short prayer. "O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to rest in the warmest places."

"I am not your toy!"

Ashiva looked up, breath stifled, body tensed. The light reflected off his hair like sunlight, yellows and golds glittering from his eyes. He frowned, bringing out the wrinkles she often brushed away with her hands. He looked angry, frustrated, as if things were not going according to plan. Had she forgotten to clean her sword before laying it on the bed? She remembered doing that once and having to clean the linens for weeks, trying to get the dark blood stains off. Or maybe Dog had found one of his wool shirts. "Cullen-" she started, but halted in her apology, her declaration of love. _Wait, this isn't real. This isn't real._

"I am Envy, and I will know you," the perpetrator declared.

The fog arose around him, a dark form taking shape. Pale skin, ebony hair pulled back into a braid, amber eyes staring at her. She gasped, standing straight up, alert, aware. Ashiva stared at herself, head rested against Cullen's broad shoulder. Her doppelganger stared at her, a sad smile on her face.

"Tell me "_Love_," what you think," he growled, knife piercing clone's back. Ashiva gasped, clenching her side, yet there was no evidence of a wound. She watched her other self, crumble, fear clinging to her.

His face was scrunched in fury, leaning over her now at the table, eyes almost dark as he demanded. "Tell me what you feel!"

Ashiva's duplicate cried out, dragging herself on the stone floor, a blood trail following her. She reached out, touching the elf on her leather boot, pulling her, dragging her to her death. Shrieking, Ashiva, stumbled backwards, crying out when she felt the blade cut into her hand. She looked down, the blade covered in blood in her hands. How did she get this?

The pale elf dropped to the ground, rolling on to her back. Her skin was ashened, gasping for air, fighting to fill her lungs with precious oxygen. The amber eyes looked at her, anguished, her whisper sounding like her own. "Tell me what you see."

Ashiva wouldn't listen to this anymore. She refused to think, feel nor see anymore. She ran, not looking back at herself dying. Her vision blurred, making it hard to navigate through the tower's maze. Hearing Cullen's chuckle behind her, she felt as if a knife had slowly been twisted in her still beating heart.


	5. Chapter 5

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

**Chapter 5**

**A/N:** It's a shorter chapter before we get into the mess in Emprise du Lion. I struggled writing this one and I don't know if I am really pleased with the results in different spots. Thank you to **ErsbethShadowSong**, **Music is my Muse**, **TheFoxesWife**, **lelumi**, **Winterlight89**, **ManlyMelon**, and **Thanatos Letus** for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. I hope you like this newest chapter.

I do not own Dragon Age, it all belongs to Bioware.

**Inspiration: **Dragon Age Inquisition soundtrack, Dragon Age Origins banter and Kinloch Hold, Dragon Age: Inquisition banter, Dragon Age Inquisition: Champions of the Just, Celtic wedding vows.

* * *

><p>"Our enemies have surrendered unconditionally, you grace," The hooded messenger reported, handing the document to her with without delay.<p>

Ashiva smiled, writing her signature on the document. Everything was going according to plan. The warden keep was restored. "Yes, I'm grateful the darkspawn have finally went back where they crawled out of."

"The Warden's strength has doubled in size. Our strength rivals any kingdom in Thedas. Even Queen Anora couldn't withstand your power," he replied.

Ashiva crinkled her nose. She knew her wardens were a powerful force. They had the best armor, weapons and training in Ferelden. The elf believed it was important to remain vigilant, to be prepared when the darkspawn returned. She would not let Amaranthine, or Ferelden for that matter be destroyed again by the foul creatures. Why would she be concern that they could withstand the Queen? It would be traitorous, marking the wardens again as enemies to the throne and kingdom.

Nathaniel stepped into the office, saluting her casually. "Commander, the mages are prepared to attack Denerim on your command."

"Wait, what" she shouted, stepping away from her desk as if the furniture was on fire. "Warden mages attack Denerim? Are you insane, Nathaniel?"

The rouge blinked, not alarmed by her outburst. "You issued the order three days ago. The mages have full control of the demons as you wished."

"Demons? I would never command that," She hissed, pushing past the archer into the great hall. She rushed through the large room, charging for her adviser, Seneschal Garvel. She found him on the top of the stairs, overlooking the keep. "Garvel, what is the meaning of this? Are we attacking Denerim? What are mages doing with demons? I never authorized this."

"You gave the command, your grace. Soon Ferelden will know the power of the Grey Wardens. They will know _your_ power," Garvel answered. "The assassin was sent as well. Soon, the throne will be yours."

The elf was speechless. _The throne will be mine?_ Who sent these orders? She turned from the seneschal, rushing through the great hall again. Grabbing the stack of papers, she went through them furiously, seeking answers. Had everyone in her keep gone mad? Was this some prank? Maker, she was beginning to hope it was. Then she would have everyone on latrine duty for a month.

It was then she found it, the seal, _her_ seal-the griffon and shield- on the Crows contract. The words were clear, assassinate the queen and any who would dare beseech the throne. She was seeking the power, taking the kingdom for herself.

She dropped the paper, as if it burned her, wrapping her arms around herself. She would never kill the Queen. She couldn't deny that there was times she disagreed with the noblewoman, but she would never assassinate her. The woman had assisted her, giving the wardens a home in Amaranthine, giving them the necessary tools to rebuild Vigil's Keep after the Darkspawn attacked, gave her a name and a position unworthy of her.

Ashiva felt the chill, heard the whispered in her head. _Traitor_. _Murder_. _Maleficarum_. She shook her head, trying to get the murmurs out of her head. "This isn't real," she whispered hoarsely.

She remembered now. The doppelganger, Envy and the Elder One. The damn demon was getting to her, using the people and places closest to her to get inside her head. She wouldn't allow it. She stepped out of her office, not surprised to see the messenger, standing a few steps on the carpeted staircase, admiring the high back wooden seat. The hood was off, a reflection of herself.

"Our reach begins to match my ambition-but we will strive for more," the doppelganger announced smugly to the empty room, arms clasped around her back, eyes full of hunger and pride.

"Is imitating what you can't have your only pleasure, demon," spat the elf, grabbing the dagger she remembered she possessed from her earlier encounter, tucked into her hip.

"Accusing," the demon hissed. "Trying to find my weakness. Is that the woman you are?"

"You won't have me," Ashiva assured, preparing to strike.

She pressed forward, striking her laughing target. She only meet air, stumbling into her chair, the one she often sat in to dictate orders for the arling. Not taking any chances, Ashiva ran outside. Wardens marched through the gates, demons alongside them. The army was massive, chanting. The shouts pierced her ears.

"You are nothing," the demon whispered. "Why give the throne to Anora when you could have taken it with force? You had the power. You gained the power of blood in the Warden Keep. You should had taken it."

"I will have Ferelden fall at my feet. Ferelden will know what it means to have true power. For when I am you, the people will not forget what you do to them. They will know...you will see."

"Shut up, demon," she yelled, falling to her knees. She covered her ears, rocking herself back and forth. She could feel the darkness impending around her. Fighting for control, she murmured a silent prayer, praying for vigilance, for strength to make it through this nightmare.

* * *

><p>Alistair groaned, covering his eyes from the sunlight glittering into the tavern. How Garrett Hawke had convinced him to play a game of Wicked Grace, he didn't know. "A moment of weakness, a way to get away from the weight of all Thedas from his shoulders," the Champion had reasoned, a knowing smiled looking over at the dwarf. He was doing great until the Qunari showed up, offering booze he couldn't resist. Something, something <em>Lok<em>. It tasted like dragon piss, burning down his throat, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight. He had plenty of Oghren's beverages and was able to walk away. Surely he could handle something from the Qunari.

He raised his head, looking around the tavern. The room had fewer people, the bartender away from the bar, probably resting from the busy night. He could hear the minstrel plucking softly on her lute, humming a tune. "By all that is holy, does she ever sleep."

"Apparently not."

"Andraste's _tits_," Alistair moaned, glaring at the intruder. Leliana sat next to him, her smile wicked and full of mischief. "Can't you talk quieter...or better yet, don't talk at all."

She laughed, raising her eyebrows. "I hear you had a wonderful night. I'm a little disappointed that I wasn't invited."

"You would have taken all my coin, just like that...short little man," Alistair muttered, trying to rub the headache away. "Did you come to chat or did you come here to complain about Ferelden stews?"

The spymaster's nose scrunched up in disgust. He remembered fondly how she often disapproved of his cooking, often volunteering to prepare the meals herself. She shifted on the bench, throwing the letter onto the table. "Oghren sends his greetings and hopes you plan to bring him back some ale."

Alistair peered at the tiny writing, the words blurring. "Great, Velanna wrote this...I'm going to need some spectacles, and another whatever it was I had," moaned the warden. He could already feel the Dalish elf's accusations with the sharp angles and curves of her handwriting. _How COULD you lose the Warden-Commander?_ It screamed. "I'll read it later. Anything else?"

"Yes, I thought you'd like to know the Inquisitor will be leaving within the hour for Emprise du Lion. I believe you said you would be going."

His head felt heavy, falling against the table. That was today? He lamented his bad luck. "I'm going to blame this on Ash. If she didn't meddle into anything, I wouldn't be in this mess."

Leliana's eyes were unfocused; face grim as she pulled on her hood. "Yes, she does tend to meddle," she agreed, standing up. "I think I need to attend to my duties. I'll see if Helisma can create something to ease your...ailments. You'll also want to seek the Commander out to get the necessary supplies and a horse."

He mumbled his thanks as she walked away, leaving his head on the table. The room kept spinning and was there some way they could cover the windows. It wasn't long before a scout hesitantly walked over, handing him the concoction with shaky hands. It tasted sour and almost like despair, but he could feel the fogginess clearing. Before long, he was on his feet, the pounding at the back of his neck fading. He walked the battlements, waving the finger at Garrett as he walked past-the smug man laughing at him. He continued his trek, opening the wooden door to the commander's office.

"A note from Lady Cassandra Commander," The scout announced, resting the document on the table.

Cullen sighed, grabbing the enclosed message. "What is it this time?"

The scout chewed on her lip. "I...don't know. She sealed it in the envelope and glared. I didn't dare open it."

He opened the pouch tentatively, looking over the written words. "Of course she's upset," Cullen muttered, dismissing the messenger with a flick of his hand. He crumbled into his seat, paper still clutched in his hand. "Cassandra had sought out the assistance of the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall nearly a year ago. She didn't find either of them. Now Hawke is here in the keep and she just learn of my deception, keeping Ashiva out of this. She'll be fuming for weeks."

Alistair smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "It can't be that bad. Things could be a lot worse. Just think, you could have a demon god baby lurking about somewhere."

"What," Cullen looked up, startled by the comment.

"Ah, nothing. Forget I said anything," Alistair rushed, feeling the heat on his face. "Leliana said I should see you about supplies for our trip."

"Oh, yes," Cullen started, standing, the paper forgotten on the desk. "I have a few things I need before we leave."

The walked around the keep was quiet, little banter between the two warriors. Alistair acquired for health poultices and cold resistance tonics, before stepping into the armory. Cullen examined the swords, balancing them in his right hand. "Looking for a new sword?"

"I was thinking about it," Cullen answered. "We don't know what we are getting ourselves into. I'd like to be prepared."

Dipping his head, Alistair couldn't agree more. "It seems your men do great work here, more than I expected. I wouldn't consider, but Master Wade would skin me alive if I came home with a sword not made by him."

Cullen chuckled. "I can imagine him doing that," he stated in amusement. "But he does create some of the best. Ashiva had the armor I wear commissioned by him. I don't know where the idea of a lion came, but she was insisted on it. Wade was happy for the challenge. Flexible enough to move freely, yet durable to a dragon's claw."

"Do you really think it is wise to go to Emprise du Lion? You are the Commander of the Inquisition," Alistair asked. "Surely there are plenty of men that would volunteer to go."

"Even if they were, I'd rather do this myself," he remarked. "I will be able to rest more easily, knowing I will be there when Ash needs me and not here, wondering otherwise."

"She wouldn't want you to beat yourself for her decisions."

"Funny you say that. Are you not doing the same?"

Alistair closed his mouth, eyes narrowing at the comment. "Well, if I am correct, I think your words for me before you left Amaranthine was to '_watch her or I will hunt you down, and kill you myself_.' I'm just trying to do what you asked."

"Dreams. Black and screams. Clashes of swords, and whispers. It calls you. Haunts you."

Alistair raised his sword, pointing it at the air. "For all that is holy…"

"Alistair, its alright," Cullen reassured, signaling to lower the weapon. A young man, no older than twenty stood next to him, hat obscuring his eyes from his sight. "Cole, now is not the-"

The boy continued, eyes glazing over. "'_By the power the Maker, mayst thou love me. As the sun follows its course, mayst thou follow me. As light to the eye, as bread to the hungry, as joy to the heart, May thy presence be with me, Oh one that I love, `til death comes to part us asunder.' _She vows, eyes glistening, hands grasped in mine...I can't believe that she's mine."

Cullen froze. He couldn't think, pulling his sword swiftly from its rest place. He glared at the boy, metal glistening in the morning sunlight. "Get out of my head," he threatens, pointing his sword at the spirit. "Oh, Maker forgive me, I will run this sword through you."

"She wouldn't want you to hurt," Cole adds, seeming unaware of the sword pointed at him. "She knew one day she would have to part from you...sooner than she hoped. She only wanted your happiness."

"Kid, I think that's enough," Varric interrupted, stepping in front of Cole. "Remember what we talked about?"

Cole stood stiffly for a moment before he nodded his head solemnly. He stepped away, vanishing from view. Varric looked back, an uncertain look on his face. "Now Curly, I know the kid has some...twerks, but was that really necessary?"

The commander lowered his sword, not in the mood for conversation with the dwarf. He looked to Alistair, the warden standing there silently, face pinched in thought. "We were going to look at the horses, yes?"

* * *

><p>She cried out, the ice water dripping from her face onto her soaked tunic. The room seemed brighter than she remembered, her amber eyes squinting in the red-lighted dungeon. A man in templar armor holding a bucket stared at her, head tilted, eyes red and cold, lifeless.<p>

"You look well, Surana," said the sardonic templar. "Maybe even better than you did as an apprentice."

The eyes bothered her. _Shouldn't they be blue or green perhaps_, she thought. "Where am I," she questioned. She wasn't in the Western Approach any longer. Ashiva remembered traveling for days in a carriage. She remembered the blistering heat, not the bone chilling winds that howled in her cell.

"Not in Ferelden, that is all I can say," the man said with a smirk, squatting next to her. "The boss said you needed to eat. They're afraid you're going to croak before the Elder One can use you. That would make him _very _angry."

She remembered now. The face was older, hair longer. She scooted away, eyes wide. "Carroll? What have they done to you?"

"No time for that. The Commander says you need to eat, its the order," he ignores her, voice harsh. He dropped the platter on the floor next to her. "I was here visiting this operation and they told me you were here. I just wanted to see you for myself, the woman who destroyed Kinloch Hold. You know, many of my friends died that day."

"So did mine," she whispered, eyes downcast. The elf remembered the carnage as she treaded carefully through the corridors. She felt ill, hoping the nightmare would end. In the mage quarters, she had found Solona, her closest friend, body cold. She had nearly gave up then, before Wynne had steeled her. "_If you give up now, then the tower is lost. You might as well tell Knight-Commander Greagoir to purge the tower,"_ she had seethed. She looked up, watching the red templar in sympathy. Whatever had happened to him, it was unnatural. Although she couldn't feel the Fade around her, she felt something shift when the man stood near her. It made her skin itch, nose twitch as if she needed to sneeze. Stilling herself, she looked him directly in the eyes, fighting to the fear. "But there are more lives at stake now, Carroll. Let me go, and I can find some way to help you."

His laugh was rough and thick. "The only way you will help me is to remain here and to eat. The Elder One wants you at your best. He has plans for you."

The templar lifted himself from the ground, his amusement making her feel uneasy. "Sleep well, Surana."


	6. Chapter 6

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

**Chapter 6**

**A/N: **This chapter flew by compared to the last. I'm so happy with this chapter. So many good things are happening. Hopefully Chapter 7 will come through in a week or so, but I am currently head deep in graduate courses, so updates may become slower. I will try my best to get things out...but I'm not going to make promises. I wanted to thank my readers, especially those who have reviewed, favorited, followed: **Rynadrin**, **Kyla Baines**, and **veezy713**. Please be sure to leave a review after reading. I love to hear from my readers!

I do not own Dragon Age, it all belongs to Bioware.

**Inspiration:** Lindsey Stirling's music video Crystallize, Dragon Age: Inquisition Rocky Rescue and Champions of the Just, Dragon Age: Origins, Fort Drakon, Dragon Age: Amaranthine, Ed Shee's _I See Fire_, Rite of Tranquility, Dragon Age II, Spirit of Justice, "The heart wants what is wants-or else it does not care," Emily Dickinson

* * *

><p>Cullen couldn't remember a time when he felt so cold. The wind blew constantly, the gusts freezing to the core. Pacing next to the open flame, he hoped the warmth would move into his heavy limbs. They had arrived in Emprise du Lion, encountering the desolate village, Sahrnia. The people were reserved, wandering the crumbled stucco buildings in a comatose state. They were distrustful, clinging to their children as the Inquisition soldiers moved through the village, offering food and hot cider to the villagers. Nearly starving and frozen, the Commander wondered when was the last time these people had outside communication.<p>

Leaning over the map, he searched for their next path. Lady Trevelyan had left with a Varric, Blackwall and Solas, closing rifts, destroying red lyrium veins and looking for evidence of Grey Warden activity. He had silently wished the Inquisitor would have taken Dorian, Cole or Alistair. The mage whine about the weather, the food, the scenery, anything he could think about. Cole...was Cole, appearing abruptly mumbling thoughts that should never be voiced and then disappearing out of thin air. Alistair on the other hand had remained silent wandering the grounds, sharpening his blade. The camaraderie he imagined the Grey Wardens had was absent. Alistair refused to be near Blackwall as they had traveled, rather hunkering near the camp fire glaring at the darker haired warrior.

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed. Rumor spread that many villagers were being held in the Sahrina Quarry by Red Templars. Others said that Suledin Keep was being held by a demon and more templars, doing experiments on creatures from the Emerald Graves. Whatever the case, both locations needed to be investigated and freed from the Red Templar's possession.

Rummaging through his pockets, he pulled out the delicate crystal container, running his thumb along the grooved edges. The liquid inside was dark, but Cullen could still feel the magic inside. Closing his eyes, he could feel her nearby, a muffled pulse of magic vibrating in the chilled air. Wherever she was, it was leaving her with little access of the Fade. It worried him.

"The fire is hot against her face, but she will not hesitate. The blade is heavy, unfamiliar. Her legs are heavy like iron, but she must run. She can't let him get there first," Cole mutters, perched on the desk. "The words finally make sense in her mind…'_In death, sacrifice._'"

He stiffens at the words. He remembered seeing them engraved on a silver cup far away from here. He remember those words as he brushed his hand against a sword, Ashiva's sword. Cullen refused to think about those grim thoughts, only focusing on the task at hand.

"Gasping, trying to find air. There is so little here," the boy continues, head clutched in his head. "'_It hurts, it hurts. Make it stop._' She walks, crawls across the stone, knees scratched, hands raw. '_I won't let you have me._'"

"That's enough Cole," Cullen pleads, head pounding. He didn't realize until he stayed in the this wasteland how drained he felt. The lyrium sang to him. He hadn't slept through the night, his left hand twitched, stomach cramped. The red lyrium tempted him with peace he sought. He wanted to hit something, scream, anything but hear it call to him.

"It bothers him too," Cole whispered, moving to sit on the ground. "The warden's skin crawls. He can hear the _song_. It calls him, beckons him to sleep, to rest. He has killed the darkspawn and sealed the keep forever, yet he still _hears_ it."

"It isn't natural," Alistair explains, stepping forward, face taut, like a rope in a game of tug of war. Cullen wondered when the string would break. "I know lyrium has qualities like this...but it has never sounded like this to me. It is too much like-"

The man paused, rubbing his chin in thought. He looked at Cullen, blue eyes hard and cold like the icicles they found on the Bone Tower. "Can I have a word with you," Alistair asks, glaring at the rouge beside him. "Alone."

With a sigh, the commander moved away from his map the pieces laid about like a chess board. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tight muscles there. "I assume you have something to tell me."

Alistair was frustrated. He was familiar with the rigid posture and the constant movement. "We have been here for _two_ days and we have not taken action to search for her," he growled between his teeth. "I know the rifts are important, but shouldn't we be helping these missing people? Ashiva could be one of them!"

"Yes, but rushing in won't help matters," Cullen remarked. "The Inquisitor is doing her best to weaken the Red Templars and Corypheus by destroying these red lyrium veins and Fade rifts. It will be easier to help these people and to continue to help them once they are destroyed."

Deflated, Alistair rubbed his left shoulder, an injury a few days ago from the behemoth. "I..yes, I understand. I just wish there was something I could be doing. Sitting here, waiting, it can drive a man crazy."

The commander chuckled. "I know. Like you, I am a man of action," he disclosed. "Knowing Ash is nearby, going through Maker knows what, drives me to near madness. The only thing that keeps me rooted here is knowing that she'd rather me be here assisting the people of Sahrina."

Alistair's mouth twitched upward, his eyes moving upward in thought. "I see."

"The Inquisitor said she would be back this afternoon to plan strategy. We will know soon enough what our course of action is," Cullen assured, patting the man on the shoulder. He looked over his shoulder, spotting the noblemen in armor shifting back and forth next to his tent.

Excusing himself from the Warden, the former templar moved through the camp, extending his hand towards the noblemen. "You must be Edouard Desjardins. I'm Commander Cullen."

"Ah, Commander. It is a relief to finally see the Inquisition here. It has been...a trying few months," Edouard stated tentatively. "I believe the people are beginning to feel the dawn will come."

"I may be bold in my statement sir, but there is," Cullen remarked, moving his sight toward the Keep looming in the distance. "This nightmare will cease soon and the people will have peace again. You have my word."

* * *

><p>Fort Drakon. She dreamt of it often of her imprisonment for two days and the battle with Urthemiel at the top of the impending tower. Her heels clicked on the blood-stained cobbled floor hallways, her calloused hands brushing against the crumbling walls. The torches glowed an unearthly green, but it didn't bother her as much as the elegant blue gown that clung to her. Why would she be wearing silks in the gruesome prison? Why would she even be here? Since the Blight, she refused to step into the tower, praying that one day it would crumble into oblivion.<p>

Her first visit here she had been tortured, beaten because she was a traitor to Ferelden. The elf could still remember the soured smell of the soldier leaning over her, his smile sickening and frightening in her weakened state. She wasn't able to fight back when he grabbed her, dragging her into the darkened room. Her screams were muffled by the iron doors..._No!_

Ashiva stumbled, leaning against the walls heavily. They were cool to the touch, anchoring her to here and now. The elf didn't want to remember that. At the back of her mind, she swore she could hear laughter. She swallowed the bile that formed at the back of her throat, pushing herself up from her crumbled state on the floor. She needed to keep moving.

The elf's feet felt heavy, as if she were wearing iron boots. Gritting her teeth, she pushed forward, struggling to open the metal gate. She was startled to see the rows of iron bars, prisoners standing helplessly in each. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her shoulders back, lifting her head high before she took her time walking into the large dungeon.

In the first cell, she swore her heart was ready to bound out of her chest, stood a mage she never thought to see again. Jowan wore his blue apprentice robes, hands clenched tightly around the iron gates.

"Hello, Ashiva," he whispered. "I never thought I'd see you again, you of all people."

"Jowan," Ashiva said quietly, moving closer to the cage. "What are you doing?"

"You put me here," he mumbled, shifting away from the bars. "Have you come to finish me off?"

"I don't understand...I left you here in Fort Drakon," she asked, uncertain. "How is that possible? I-"

"You killed me," he finishes. "Welcome to the Hall of Regrets, Ash."

* * *

><p>"<em>We'll move at nightfall,"<em> the Inquisitor announced earlier, pointing at the map. _"I scouted the area. Dorian, Iron Bull, Varric and I will invade from the back...our priority is defeating the Red Templar Lieutenants, Cullen I need you, Cole, Alistair and Blackwall to come behind us and help the survivors."_

It was a sound plan. Alistair knew that as he walked behind the Commander. The sun had set hours ago, leaving them only with jars filled with a substance that glowed. "_A chemical reaction, Alistair,_" Ashiva would have said with enthusiasm. She always was in love with alchemy. _Maker, I hope she's here_, he pleaded to himself.

He remembered when they found her in Fort Drakon. Bruises were around her legs and shoulders, thin cuts on her abdomen and arms, clothing discarded. They had tortured her and bled her. The smell in the tiny cell was overpowering of sickness and blood. It made him nauseous. She had only been there for a day and a half and she was nearly dead in his arms. He didn't want to imagine the condition she could be in now, nearly a month in the hands of red templars. It made his vision red in fury. The warden clinged to his sword tighter, hoping to find an opportunity to swing it at the bastards that held his friend.

Cole moved past the group, blending into the night. The iron carts rested near the abandoned quarry, dead templars scattered around the area. The Inquisitor had been through here, leaving her form of justice in her path. The rogue kneeled near one of the wagons, the sound of metal the only sound that the spirit was messing with the locks. Alistair moved away from the carts, preparing for a fight with whoever was willing. To his disappointment, there was nothing but the sounds of wolves far from them.

He watched Cullen assist an older woman from the cart, asking if there were more prisoners. One of the men answered, a tall middle-aged man, shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

"Just up the hill, there's another area where miners were working near. There were two more up there," he answered gruffly.

"We should keep moving," Blackwall stated, shuffling on his feet. The bearded man seemed restless.

Cullen nodded, pointing. "You and the others should head north, you'll find our camp. You'll be safe there," he directed the prisoners. "We will look for the others."

"Maker bless you," one woman whispered as the small group moved north, away from the quarry. Alistair could hear Cole beside him murmur something about liking to help people.

They moved forward again, eyes searching the darkness around them. Alistair only hoped they would find her somewhere amongst these ruins.

* * *

><p>She clenched chunks of her hair in her fists, teeth grinding. The pain consumed her, devouring her like a dragon swallowing their prey whole. Her head pounded. The slightest noise and light made her cringe. How much more could she take before she took the plunge into insanity?<p>

She fiddled with her loose trousers, finding the dagger. She twirled it in her hands, admiring the jagged black blade. It glistened like obsidian, and was sharp to the touch. Ashiva had already nicked her index finger, testing the blade.

The elven women knew one way to get out of this nightmare. Before she would have thought it the coward's way out, but as she traveled the maze of halls, she was beginning to think it a mercy. Perhaps there was no way out but this choice?

She remembered sitting in the circle decades ago, reading at the tiny desk. She was appalled by the Rite of Tranquility. It was what made her help Jowan. She never wanted it for him. Through her travels through, her views were showing her that life was not black or white. Nor was the controversial topic of the Tranquil. The book was old, the tome moan as she turned through the pages. The elf remembered reading the passage about the mage in the fade dying, their persona changing. Their death in the fade made them tranquil.

Ashiva was powerless here, her magic and weapons taken from her. Her willpower was waning with every struggling breath she took in the distorted environment. She had continued to fight, pressing forward through the cells. Each became worse to bear, more regrets, more what ifs. Jowan. Solona. Anders. Her friends from the circle, their lives horrible twisted because of her. Conner, pleading for his life. Isolde screaming at her, demanding her death. So many choices she made and regretted later.

She should have stopped Jowan, she should had told Irving. She should had went to the tower first. She should had searched for Anders after the events at Vigil's Keep. She should had-

The elf sighed, her crumbled form defeated. In the back of her mind, she knew this was the plan of the demon. Weaken her, delay her as it slowly fed of her, learning who she was. Envy wanted to be her. At this point though, Ashiva didn't give a damn. She just wanted everything to stop, to rest.

Hadn't she done enough already? She destroyed the lives of so many for her decisions, the blood on her hands. She was drowning in it. Ashiva had tried to redeem herself, saving Redcliffe, Denerim, Amaranthine. But was it enough? She had often asked the same question, kneeled in the pews of the small chantry, staring at the desolate stone eyes of Andraste.

She had stumbled into the small shrine, finding peace in the stone statue wielding the blade. It was time to end this. If there was anyone that deserved Tranquility, it was her. She looked around her, the candles glowly lightly around her. Lifting the blade, she was in awe of the shimmering ebony.

"In death...sacrifice," she whispered, thrusting the blade into her chest. She inhaled harshly, closing her eyes. The pain was unbearable. It was everywhere, in her leg, chest, in her head. The elf whimpered in pain, crumbling into herself.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The pain continued, confusion settling in her mind. Shouldn't she be feeling the warm liquid around her? Shouldn't she not feel anything? Opening her eyes, she analyzed her wound. Nothing. Looking across the wooden floors, she saw the dagger out of her reach, glittering in the dim lighting. No evidence of blood rested on the blade.

"Why do you linger here, friend? This is not your place."

Ashiva gasped, clinging to her side. She looked around the small room, trying to find the owner of the voice. No one. The candles seem to glow brighter, whiter compared to the normal reddish-greenish light she had become accustomed to in the Fade. "Who is here?"

The sound of heavy armor made her tense. She reached for the dagger still out of reach with no luck. The elf saw the gauntlet first, reaching out to her. Her eyes traveled the arm, reaching the armored helm of the white being. She recognized the armor, though she had not seen it for nearly a decade. The rumors of his existence had troubled her, but she left it there, not seeking the spirit she had once befriended. Her eyes widened in disbelief, deja vu overwhelming her. "Justice? I thought you were dead?"

"Warden-Commander, I have watched for too long. The time to act has come," the spirit answered.

Ashiva took the hand, lifting herself from the ground. She gawked at Justice, her confusion settling further down into her stomach. "Is this yet another lie? Something Envy is creating to make me stumble?"

"I am no illusion, I am Justice," it simply stated. "Warden-Commander, you must continue to move. You must remain vigilant."

She scoffed. "Are you really going to tell me that? For Maker's sake what have I been doing this whole time? I have remained vigilant as I plunged the blade into Urthemiel. I remained vigilant when we killed the Architect and the Mother. I remained vigilant protecting a city that didn't want me as Vigil was destroyed. My friends died, people that believed in me died, because of my vigilance."

She fought the tears. "I remained vigilant as Kirkwall crumbled into ashes by one of my wardens, by YOU!"

"The world you live in...it was nothing like I thought it would be. It was full of beauty...and so many mortals worth saving. I tried...but failed," he explains. "I heard you call out. I would not leave you, my friend, my Warden-Commander."

The spirit saluted, his fist pounded his chest. Ashiva. "I watched as they dragged you into this place. The templars lost their honor, lost their purpose, yet they were impressed. They conquered the infamous Hero of Ferelden. They cheered their victory, boasted their triumph, but none like the one that put you here."

"I don't know how long I have been here, neither how I called out to you, but I was brought here by Envy. It wants to be me," Ashiva whispered, careful with her message. If this was demon, she didn't want to give it more knowledge.

"Warden-Commander, you have no weapon, no armor," the spirit added. "We must search for these things, then defeat this demon.'

She grinned, brushing the hair out of her face. "Now that, I can agree with."

* * *

><p>He felt the magic before he felt the heat of the fire. Cullen stumbled back, the templar he had bashed with his shield in a blaze. He looked behind him, glaring at the Tevinter mage, turning back to finish the scorched man. Perhaps it was better than the embarrassment of dropping his sword in the middle of a battle because it became ablazed in a magical blue flame.<p>

Lady Trevelyan stepped beside him, surveying the area. "Well done, Commander. It seems you had this under control."

"Just because I command you army, Inquisitor doesn't mean I cannot wield a blade. Someone has to teach the farmers to fight with a blade," counter Cullen with a smirk. "We have searched the quarry. This is the last of the hostages."

She looked relieved, rubbing her sword arm. "Wonderful. The families in Sahrnia will be most pleased," she whispered, handing him the missive. "Unfortunately, I came across this in my findings. It seems our dear Mistress Poulin may have told us a little white lie."

Cullen scanned the paper, holding the paper to the glowing glass bottle. He frowned with what little he could read. "So she was allowing this."

"Apparently so. Have one of your men round her up and take her to Skyhold. We will hold her responsible for this," the Inquisitor ordered. "Has there been anything on-"

"Not at the moment. I planned to ask some of the survivors. Perhaps they might know something," he answered, hiding his disappointment. He had hoped he would had found her here in the ruins, unharmed and pissed he hadn't come sooner.

Evelyn looked at him, sadness creeping into her gaze. "It's not over yet, Cullen. Have faith."

Cullen saluted, before stepping away from the woman. He moved forward, seeing Alistair, Blackwall and Cole speaking to the hostages. It was a smaller group, a mixture of elderly and young boys, probably orphans Mistress Poulin had promised to protect. Anger formed in his gut, fist clenched. He hoped justice would reign down on the woman for taking advantage of the fearful villagers.

He caught one of the men by the arm. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask...was there a warden mage with you before?"

"Warden? There was no warden," the man answer, spitting at the ground. "No damn warden with us."

Alistair stepped up. "Cullen, she probably didn't want to be recognized. She wouldn't have worn the Warden armor," he advised, softly. "Even if she had worn it, they probably would had stripped it from her, leaving her with no defenses."

Cullen nodded. "Fine. How about an elven woman. Golden eyes and hair as black as night. It would glow silver in the moonlight. Pale skin."

The man sneered, face contorting in anger. "A knife-ear? You're searching for a damn knife-ear?"

He bite his lip, fighting his temptation to hit the man over the head. The prejudice was something he never understood growing up in the circle. Sure there were humans and elves, but they were all treated the same. Ashiva was one of the cleverest mages he had ever met. If only the man knew his prejudice was over the Grey Warden who defeated the Fifth Blight. At the corner of his eye, he noticed Alistair shift, his hand twitching near his sword. Cullen wasn't the only one agitated by the man's slander.

"Yes...she's-"

"Yes, the knife-ear is part of an investigation the Inquisitor is looking into," Alistair interrupted, glowering at the man. "Anything can help us find her."

The man shook his head. "Talk to the boy here. He mentioned something about an elf."

The boy was young, fifteen at most. His face was dirty with soot, cleaning his nails with the tiny dagger. "Aye, there was an elf. Woman, with black hair. I didn't see her eyes. She was unconscious when they drove through the streets."

"Who drove through the streets," Cullen questioned.

"Red Templars. They've been here for three months," the boy replied. "She came in after a big storm. They stopped in Sahrnia, stole some of our food. They force the healer to straighten the elf's leg. It was broken bad. The screams were something from my nightmares. They stayed for two days before they left for Suledin Keep, taking her with them."

Suledin Keep. Cullen swore under his breath. They wouldn't force a mage to eat lyrium. Raw lyrium could kill a mage. The men and women they saved tonight were only for experiments, forcing the hostages to eat the red rocks. To go so much out of the way to move her from the Western Approach to here, they wanted her alive for something. But what?

He thanked the boy, stepping away from the crowd and pulling out the phylactery. Cullen knew she had to be close. The glass container glowed and vibrated wildly. Pointing it in the direction of the ancient elven keep, he felt the pulse speed up more, pointing in that direction. She was there. She was in Suledin Keep, alive.

* * *

><p><em>She returned from the Warden Prison a week after they had made camp. Although he had disagreed with her decision he had remained with Thrash and Keran, waiting for her to return. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the loose strands of hair blowing in the arid wind. She had darker spots on her armor, blood splatters. He prayed that it was not her own blood. She stood away from the fire, her body facing the shadow of the tower. <em>

_He hated this. Since her return, the distance between them had grown, as if the past two weeks traveling together had meant nothing. Whatever had happened in the prison had unnerved her. He knew she wouldn't tell him the secrets of the order she belonged with, but he only hoped that she would rely on him. She didn't have to do this alone._

_Cullen frowned. He had denied it for years, these affections he had towards the elf. It was forbidden in the circle. He had watched her from a distance, her hands twisting in the blue apprentice robes. He knew she feared the water, avoiding the swimming lessons that had happened when she was a child. She hummed softly as she spun intricate designs in the air, the fade opening. As she read from the ancient tomes, she absently tapped the desk with her index finger. His infatuation with her, although never acted upon was known throughout the halls. He heard the whispers from the other mages. _

_Then she was in Kirkwall, a Grey Warden. Although not being a mage from the circle anymore, he knew the relationship was inappropriate. If anyone was to find out, it could mean trouble for him or for her, but he couldn't leave her. He wanted to know her. The letters were a comfort, something he read to himself before he slept. She mentioned her wardens, Alistair, Oghren, Velanna, Sigrun and Nathaniel. She spoke of Amaranthine and the celebrations she partook in. She wrote of her nightmares, people's screams, dark smoke and a black dragon flying around her. Cullen was honored that she trusted him with this knowledge, but he wanted more._

"_Do you plan to stand here, or actually speak to her?"_

_Cullen groaned, turning to acknowledge the red-headed templar. "Ser Thrask, you needed something?"_

"_I've watch you two dance around each other for weeks," Thrask started, moving his head towards Ashiva. He chuckled. "Young love, I envy you Cullen."_

"_This...this isn't what you think it is," Cullen excused rapidly, tongue twisting in his mouth. "I admire her...her strength. She saved Ferelden, my home. My family….sister and brothers are alive because of her."_

_Thrask shook his head, disapprovingly. "It's more than that. I've been in your shoes before. I know what it is."_

"_She's a mage...it would be inappropriate," the templar stuttered, feeling the battle was being lost. Love. It was a word he refused to use. Love was for other people. Not for him. Never for him._

"_That's the thing about love and the heart," Thrask chuckles, lowering himself to the ground, inviting Cullen to join him. Cullen obliged. "The heart wants what it wants. There is no reasoning to it. It doesn't matter not to the heart if they are poor or rich, elf or human or even if they are a mage or a templar. It loves whom it wants to love."_

_Cullen sat there, thinking carefully over the words. He looked at the older man, eyes distant staring at the flame at the heart of the camp. This conversation wasn't something he was prepared for. Had Thrask been in love before? With a mage? "Were you...have you…"_

"_Lara wasn't a mage, but a merchant girl. Hair like gold and eyes bluer than the sky," he answered. "The summer before I was sent off to be a templar, our love flourished. That summer was special. I think of it on my worst days and it makes things better in a way."_

_Thrask smiled, turning his blue eyes on him. "Go over there and talk to her. I don't plan to report you to Meredith. Even if something was said, there is nothing they can do. That warden is not part of the circle or in the service to the chantry any longer."_

_Cullen didn't know how long he sat there, watching Ashiva before he stood, grabbing the blanket from his tent. His steps were heavy, weighted by the excessive armor. The chill crept through the armor but he pressed forward, draping the wool blanket on her shoulders. She gasped, startled when she turned to him. _

"_Cullen?"_

"_You looked cold out here by yourself and thought you might like a blanket...maybe some company."_

_The smile was small but beautiful on her delicate features. Her amber eyes glowed in the night, similar to the cats that lurked the shadows in Lowtown. She brushed the black strands of hair away from her pale skin, her face downcast. "I...I'd like that," she murmured, clinging to the blanket now around her shoulders. _

_They stood next to one another, looking out in the distance, the full moon the only source of light. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply the mountain air. "Being in that prison, I didn't know if I would have a chance to breath in fresh air again, to see the stars again….to see," she paused, opening her eyes to look at the templar. "To see you again."_

"_I...I didn't like you leaving to go in there alone," he stuttered. "The magic...it's so dense here. I can't imagine what it was like there."_

_He could taste the magic in the air, his lungs suffocating. His skin itched all week as he practice with his blade, meditated, and prayed. Ashiva nodded. "Yes, and the taint was everywhere as well. The darkspawn swarmed the entire place. The Fade was weak...Jerry, Sharon and I had to weave the fade back together in many areas. It was brutal work, but we didn't find what caused the disturbance. It...troubles me. It should have been there."_

"_We saw a group traveling to the prison. Did you encounter them?"_

"_Orlesian Wardens," she replied, disdain in her voice. "They decided they would handle the problem. Those Orlesians insisted that they were in charge and that my place was not anywhere near that prison. I finished my investigation and left with a knot in my stomach, but I wasn't going to cause a civil war with the Orlesian pigs."_

_Cullen chuckled. "I'm just glad you came back, safe."_

_Ashiva grabbed his hand, lacing his fingers in hers. "As am I," the elf whispered. Her forehead crinkled in confusion, the right side of her lip twitching into a half grin. "I have a confession, Cullen."_

"_So you are going to finally admit it was you that froze Knight-Commander Gregoir's smalls and placed them in the Commons," challenged Cullen, his smile giving away his mischief."_

"_No, that was Solona. I'll never forget the look on his face.," she laughed lightly, eyes brightening in memory. she cleared her throat though her smile remained on her pink lips. "I've thought a lot about you Cullen, more than a mage should about a templar."_

"_You...you care about me," he mumbles, knowing the more he speaks the more he sounds like a buffoon. This was ridiculous. The were standing next to one another, hands clasped together, her soft confession of affections towards him and all he can think to say is "you care for me?" He wanted to kick himself. Cullen looked up at the sky, praying that there would be words for him to read up there. Nothing. He sighed, shoulders slouched. _

"_Yeah," she said, strained. The laugh sounds low, twisting her other hand in her hair. "Yeah, I care about you...more than I should...more than is wise." Ashiva looked lost, shaking her head. _

"_What's wrong?"_

"_What's wrong, he says," she repeated, tormented. "You're a templar and I'm a mage! Our lives...it wouldn't work. We would never work and it makes me angry...sad...frustrated."_

_She lets his hand go, pulling her arms around herself. He misses the warmth of her touch. "I know we were trying to move on from Kinloch, but I can't stop thinking about it. I remember what Uldred did to you...the desire demon...your anger. You say you never thought me like them, but I can't help but think. Do you trust mages? Do you trust me?"_

_He grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her face upwards to look at him. The sadness on her face, stirred his heart in ways he didn't know could happen. "Ash, we talked about this already. You were never one of them. You're not Uldred, nor the blood mages that took over the circle. You're you, the Hero of Ferelden, my friend and my savior," he answered, lowering his voice. He didn't want their conversation to be overheard. "I trust you implicitly."_

"_Then what of your feelings," the mage whispered._

_The templar inhaled, clinging to her shoulders tighter. What were his feelings? He had thought this through, made a plan. He always had a plan. "I think about you often...and what I might say in this sort of situation." Cullen stepped away, fighting to clear his head. What had he planned to say before he began to stumble over his words? He couldn't remember anymore._

_Her small hand grabbed his gauntlet, drawing him back to her. He did expect to feel her lips pressed against his, her other hand coming up to brush against his face. There is no need for words now, his arms wrapping around her lithe form, pulling her closer to him. It seems like an eternity and too soon when they part, her eyes fluttering open. He noticed for the first time how cold her expression had been throughout the trip, her face softer. Cullen brushed his gauntlet across her lips softly, wishing he had thought to take the armor off before visiting her._

"_That was...really nice," mumbled the Knight-Captain, wishing to curl up in a corner. Words were not his ally._

_She grinned, pulling him down to her level, wrapping the blanket around both of them. "Stay with me, here tonight."_

_Cullen smiled, wrapping his arm tighter around her waist. "Always."_


End file.
